I Present Into Evidence Item #207...
as to my lack of domestic goddessness.
The hubs just brought the ironing board and iron up to press his shirt for our date tonight (don't get all excited, we're going to a wedding--you think he'd iron for me??).
Mr. 4: Dad? What's that?
Hubs: *steals a glance at me and chuckles*
Mr. 4: I mean what does it do?
Two minutes later...
Mr. 5: Dad? What's that?? What are you doing?
In my defense (and his), I did offer to iron the shirt for him but he wanted to do it himself. And honestly, I don't mind ironing. It's like vacuuming--you get immediate gratification for your efforts, but I don't have a place to leave my iron set up so we just don't do it much and neither of us are that partial to button down shirts--they're just not that comfortable.
UPDATE:
Hubs gave it a shot with limited success. He's decided to let me "take a stab" at eliminating the wrinkles. Gotta go. Off to make Fussy proud.