Amy will appreciate this story. Here goes:
Yesterday, Elena steps off the school bus with this smarmy little smile on her face and says one word to me "Pastels". I bring my hands up to the each side of my head, grab a handful of my own hair in each hand and whisper "NO!". "Yes" my child says as she grins from ear to ear "and the art teacher said it won't wash out". I just say "smocks" to her. She shakes her head from side to side and says "we don't use them in art class". "Why the hell not?" I say to myself. I then remind Elena she has a smock in her backpack, but she informed me no one else wears one and she would prefer to wear one actually so she could really go crazy, but won't because, well no one else wears one.
The shirt was worn one other time (of course). She comes home and changes into her play clothes and I study the shirt. It's a yellow stain and kinda near the bottom of a light pink shirt. "Can I do it?", I ask myself. I know a challenge when I hear one, "it won't wash out you say" I say to myself in a sing-songy voice. I get out the Shout-cover the entire stain completely and let it sit on the washer a bit. I come in later and it was mocking me, I swear. I wash the shirt. Damn stain still there-I curse the shirt, get out detergent, a bar of flax seed soap and an old toothbrush and start to work. I run the bar soap across the damp stain, I then add the detergent and I grab the toothbrush and scrub-all different directions teaching that shirt that you don't mock me! I rinse the shirt and rescrub, giving it something to whine about and then I rewash the shirt. I take it out, inspect it under fluorescent lighting and then natural light. Looks good. I dry the shirt and Voila! It's out. Who is mocking who now?
Moral of the story: Don't screw with my laundry and don't tell me something won't come out without knowing my obvious laundry prowess.