In Praise of St. George

St. George has been slaying dragons again.

I've had the flu for four days now, and last night Edison entered the ranks of the flu-infested. This morning St. George heard me attempting to explain to Edison that his stuffed tiger was in the wash until I had enough energy to rewash the clothes that have been sitting in the washer for three days, and then his load would be next. While Edison and I were napping, St. George with all the gallantry of a true knight and the heart of a true saint, rewashed the clothes in the washer. At lunchtime, he nonchalantly inquired as to the proper laundering of pillows and other stuffed objects. As I write this, a clean Baby Tiger is enjoying a ride in the dryer courtesy of my sweet eight year old son.

I'm going back to bed. St. George has got it all under control.