The next week’s Friday morning, Alaina is dragging her feet as she picks something to wear. “Honey, we need to hurry,” I call out, slipping into my flats.
“I can’t find my shirt!” she shouts back.
I hurry down the hallway and peek my head into her room. “What?”
“My softest shirt!” she says, and I see clothes being thrown out of her closet at a rapid speed.