The kids were warned that at some point we were going to go into their rooms and pack up a few things, but they apparently didn’t believe us. After Ian got home this morning we decided to tackle Alex’s room first and grab all the dirty clothes to wash before packing, then box up whatever he might need the first few days in the new house. While I poked through his closet, Ian got down on the floor and started pulling things out from under the bed. I expected a ton of trash but Alex has actually kept his room quite tidy, including a very neatly stacked pile of old Playboy magazines.

There was a momentary debate, leave them there, pack them away, or make them magically disappear, but Ian set them aside and once we'd gotten the clothes we thought Alex would need packed, he took the Playboys into our room and shoved them into a dresser drawer. When we picked the kids up from school Ian mentioned in an offhanded sort of way that we'd pulled all the stuff out from under their beds to get the dirty clothes; we didn't put anything back, so there were a few piles they needed to deal with before bed tonight. Alex was conspicuously quiet until we got to the dojang, and was equally quiet on the way home.

As soon as we got home all three kids raced to their room to survey the damage (it wasn't much, toys in Kevin's room and books and CDs in Rachel's) but Alex never came out to complain that anything was missing, not that we expected him to. He suffered through dinner, squirming every time Ian looked at him too long, and he cleared the table and helped with dishes without any prompting. After Kevin went to bed Ian pulled the magazines out of the drawer and took them into Alex's room; he was in there for a long time but says his message to Alex was mostly to keep those where Kevin wouldn't find them.

I know Alex isn't a little boy anymore but finding those did throw me for a little bit of a curve. I'd rather not think of him thinking of that; on the other hand, it opens the door for his dad to talk to him (and yes I leave most of that up to Ian, because somewhere inside I still giggle over words like 'wiener' and there's no possible way for me to discuss female anatomy with my son.) I can handle the idea that he's looking at pictures of naked women, but if we ever find condoms in his room, I might not be as understanding. I know I should be, but I don't know if I can.