PE kit retrieval

Youngest is now 14.
This morning we hugged fondly as he made his way to the school bus.
'See you later, Mum. Love you,' he says, as he leaves the house. I wave and wave as he trudges up the drive and round the corner. I can still hear his crunching feet on the gravel.
The phone rings a few minutes later. It's Youngest.
"Oops. Have you missed the bus?" I say.
"No. But I thought it was Monday."
I think for a bit. It's Tuesday.
Youngest continues. "And on Tuesday it's PE."
Oh, dear, I think.
"What shall you do?" I ask. Our parental mantra is not to dash about and save the situation.
"Can you bring it down to school?" asks Youngest.
So I dash about and save the situation.
"Where's your kit?"
"Go into my room, " says Youngest. Which I do.
It's chaos. Clothes are scattered everywhere. Piles of them. I sigh deeply.
"My PE shirt is on the floor. Under a grey sweatshirt. By the chair. At the end of the bed."
I look on the floor. By the chair. At the end of the bed. I pick up a grey sweatshirt.
There's the PE shirt!
"Found it!' I say. "Where's the shorts?"
Youngest's deep voice (did I tell you his voice broke? He sounds like my dad now) tells me to go to the pile over by the window and look under the blanket next to the chest.
I go to the pile by the window, and look under the blanket next to the chest.
There are the shorts!
"Got 'em! Shoes?" I ask, deeply impressed by his chaotic order.
"Downstairs by the front door," replies my boy. "Next to the mat."
I thump down, two stairs at a time. There they are!
And cram the whole lot into a bag, and drive the 3.8 miles to school.
"Thanks, Mum," says Youngest, lifting the bag out of the passenger seat. "Love you."
"Love you too," I say.
And off I go home. PE kit delivered. Situation saved.
And a new sense of awe that despite the live ecosystem that is his room, Youngest can remotely direct his mother to locate and assemble a forgotten PE kit.
Impressive.