Janet Christie: Jumper trouble

By Janet Christie
Published on 16/02/2013 00:00

MIDDLE Child has been tidying his room. A Friday ritual only endured by the boys to qualify for pocket money. Cash = Teenage Control.

Three loads of washing appear in front of the machine. Sigh. I execute a quick rifle through pockets before it goes in, for mobile phones, iPods, money, notes home from school.

But what’s this? A cashmere jumper, grey. Whose is it?

“Mine,” says Middle Child, on a cereal forage. “You bought me it years ago but I’ve never worn it. And now it’s too small.”

“I buy you a cashmere jumper (really? Must have been knockdown in a sale) and look how much care you take of it. Unworn, lying on the floor, drone, drone…”

Too small for him, eh? I put it on. Nice. I’ll have that. I put it somewhere safe, I think.

Later I empty the machine. Jeans, T-shirts, a tiny grey jumper. Aaaaagh. My new cashmere jumper! Shrunk. Wouldn’t fit Youngest Child’s teddy. Sob.

“So, that’s how you take care of things I give you,” says Middle Child who has appeared on cue on a cereal forage.

“Go away.”

Later, I’m putting away washing – and find my “new” cashmere jumper. So whose was the grey one I shrunk?

“Mu-um,” Middle Child calls. “Have you seen my other grey jumper. The one I wear. Don’t put it in the machine or it’ll shrink.”

Oh.