I see London, I see France, I see Biscuit's underpants

It was time for Biscuit to get ready for bed. I told him to take his clothes to the hamper while Jeff went upstairs to get him some pajamas.

I heard him playing, but I didn't think too much about it. Being the happy kid he is, he was hollering and singing and making sound effects.

I was sitting in my chair in the living room when Biscuit walked in with a very sad face.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

"Mom, I've got some very bad news," Biscuit said. "And I'm just gonna tell you the truth." 

"Okay," I said, wondering what in the world he had done.

"Well, Mom," Biscuit said, with tears in his eyes. "You told me not to throw my clothes. ... But I threw my clothes. And now, they're up somewhere very high." 

I looked at Jeff and started walking toward the bathroom. I walked into the bathroom, but I didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

"Close the door, Mom," Biscuit said, looking at the floor.

Here's what I saw:

Those are his brown pants hanging from the top of the door. And yep, those are his underwear, dangling from the hook where my robe is.

I wanted to scold him, but I couldn't. The whole thing, from the confession to where I found the clothes was just too funny.

I did make him carry them to the hamper, though.