Saturdays and Sundays were my favorite days of the week. Not only was I able to maximize my sleeping time, but I also got the chance to see my grandmother wash clothes.
My lola heads to the lavatory to start her "routine". I was just there by my lola's side watching every step she made. I just love the sound made by the rubbing of her fists, the roll of the washing machine, and the water coming out of the apparel as she tightly twist and squeeze it. I was just there by her side, making bubbles but deep inside, very eager to replace my grandmother and do the washing by myself.
When I can't control myself any longer, I insisted my lola to go away and leave it all to me. Of course, she refused. I tried again but she refused again. I tried and tried but refusal was all she gave me. Until finally, a very big frown painted my face and then I rebelled by not drinking my milk. My strategy was effective. She now allowed me to wash the clothes.
So I sat beside her, grabbed a bar of laundry soap and started the "fun". I followed every step she made as I washed the hankies and undies. It was indeed fun producing the music of laundry by myself.
Then my lola handed me the denims. That's when I realized that washing clothes was not meant for a kid like me. So I started to leave but my grandmother strictly reprimanded me to stay. I can't disobey her. In the first place, I was the one who insisted her. I regretted because I realized that washing clothes is a burden to the delicate hands of a five-year old girl like me.
After I've done my part, I promised not to do the laundry anymore not until I reach a tender age!
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