There are many great mysteries in the life of a parent.

One of the biggest, for me, are these stuffed animals. They’re all over our house, because my boys love stuffed animals and their grandparents know it.

Stuffed animals aren’t all that unusual in the world of a child. What is unusual is that these stuffed animals are DRESSED.

They are dressed when my children are not.

“I have to take you to the store with me,” I say. “Please go get dressed.”

Fifteen minutes later, I trip over Sully, who is dressed. Sitting beside him is my 6-year-old, who is not.

This is a great mystery to me, that my boys liked dressing their stuffed animals better than dressing themselves. That most of the clothes in the laundry are clothes their stuffed animals have worn.

“I don’t have any clean underwear,” he says.

“Maybe go check Mike Wazowski. He probably knows where some are,” I say.

Two minutes later, he comes back. “You were right, Mama!” he says. “Mike Wazowski had my underwear!”

And we laugh about it like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

I can let them have a little fun, I guess.

Until…
“Mama, this one’s a girl. I need some of your clothes this time,” one of them says.

Nope. Absolutely not. You are NOT raiding my underwear drawer.

I have to draw a line somewhere.