My six-year-old has a queen-sized bed. At first I wondered if it might be excessive. Last night, I tiptoed into her room after she was asleep and found the bed comprised 70% life-sized Olaf, 20% Beanie Boos, 9.5% stretched-out cat, and Anna, who was dangling like Wile E. Coyote from the edge of a cliff. Next stop: the California King.
Captions
Crunch these numbers.
Two weeks of laundry, three pairs of boys’ underwear.
I wish I wasn’t so good at math.