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My youngest son has occasionally been known to sneak out to church wearing shorts and a ratty t-shirt.
This morning, however, he asked for long pants rather than the shorts he had clean. I found a pair. He normally wears an 8, but this was a pair of 10 slims that had fit him okay. Today, I noticed that he was having trouble zipping them up.
"Are those uncomfortable?" "No, no they're fine." "Do they hurt?" "Yes, but...."
I got him sweatpants. No dice. "Mom, these pants look good on me." "But they hurt." "Well, yeah, but it's okay. It goes with this shirt."
I finally lured him out of the too-tight pants by hunting his Spanish shirt with the flamenco bulls on it out of the clean clothes pile. He asked "Are you trying to get me into different pants?" "Yes, I am." Big sigh. But he changed pants.
The other pants are going into the Goodwill pile.
This morning, however, he asked for long pants rather than the shorts he had clean. I found a pair. He normally wears an 8, but this was a pair of 10 slims that had fit him okay. Today, I noticed that he was having trouble zipping them up.
"Are those uncomfortable?" "No, no they're fine." "Do they hurt?" "Yes, but...."
I got him sweatpants. No dice. "Mom, these pants look good on me." "But they hurt." "Well, yeah, but it's okay. It goes with this shirt."
I finally lured him out of the too-tight pants by hunting his Spanish shirt with the flamenco bulls on it out of the clean clothes pile. He asked "Are you trying to get me into different pants?" "Yes, I am." Big sigh. But he changed pants.
The other pants are going into the Goodwill pile.
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