Where, oh where, do they get that from?

Sometimes I wonder where the boys get it.
Silliness -that's me. Brilliance -ditto. Jacked up teeth -that's their father.

And sometimes the answer is -they just do it because they are boys.

Case and point:

I looked in Prince #3's locker at school the other day. Under piles of books and papers what do I spy with my little eye?

My good bath towels.

I'm talking the nice ones. The white ones. The ones that don't smell like mold. The ones I hide from them so when I lock the bathroom door, stretch out in the tub and have a Calgon-take-me-away moment I can then dry off in a fluffy, thirsty 100% cotton cloud.

"What are these doing in here?!" I shrieked.

"Ummm. Uhh. Dad said I could donate them. We are collecting things for the poor."

Okay, alright. Into the donation pile they went.

But, I wondered, out of all the towels we have why would hubby tell him he could take the nice ones?

I had my answer when I pulled into the driveway.

Sweetie Hubby had been busy protecting all our plants and bushes from the cold by covering them up.

With our nice sheets.