Not a good start.
Today Son2 arrived in the kitchen as I was getting ready for breakfast/making school lunches with his pants undone and a strange unhappy look on his face and said, with not a little panic and angst, “My pants don’t fit. They’re too small.”
Huh? Overnight? He wore pants just like those yesterday, and I heard no complaints. So I said, “Huh? Overnight? You wore pants just like those yesterday and never said a word. How could they have become too small overnight?” I went over to him to assess the situation (licking peanut butter off my fingers along the way). Indeed, they were too small.
“Come with me,” I directed, and we headed up to his bedroom. Oh, and by the way, it’s T-20 minutes before we need to leave for the school bus. Arriving in his closet I became a small human tornado, blowing through and looking for pants, shorts, anything that was not a Lands End size 12 — since overnight that didn’t work. No luck.
Needless to say I was aggravated. Why do my children bring me problems to solve minutes before we are due somewhere (like the bus stop) or at night when the problem solving resources are closed? Why?
Seeing that I was not happy with the situation, suddenly S2 decided that his pants, in fact, fit. Oh no, Mister. You’re standing in the kitchen 20 minutes ago, practically in tears. They’re not suddenly ok. So I said, “I will go to Kohl’s right after you get to school, and I will purchase a pair of khaki shorts and a pair of pants, and I will bring them to school for you to change.”
Well. That really got him panicked. “No! No! They’re fine! Don’t do that! Don’t come to school with new pants!”
To which I replied, “Oh no. You’re standing there telling me they hurt and that they’re too small. I’ll go get new pants and you’ll change in the bathroom and no one will know unless you tell them. It’s my job to make sure that you are clothed, fed and safe, and that’s what I’m doing.”
Meanwhile, my blood pressure is 200/100, and I’m feeling like a lunatic. Can’t make this stuff up.
Happy Tuesday Morning.
UPDATE: Stop the engraving machine for my Mother of the Year Award. I had the wrong S in this story!! It was S1, not S2!! No wonder I’m nuts some days — can’t keep track of who’s who!!