Most people would never guess, just from talking to me, that I’m a closet Pulp Fiction fan. Especially the segment called ‘The Bonnie Situation.’ The entire premise is just funny – and who can resist Harvey Keitel as The Wolf? Not me. But this weekend was dominated by a scenario that was right up there with the ludicrosity (word? or not?) of Quentin Tarentino trying to keep his wife from finding out that a dude was shot in his car.
The Pants Situation.
Let me start out by reminding you that I have boys. Boys. Not Girls. Boys are supposed to be much easier in the clothing department, right? Right.
Apparently not mine.
The main problem has been that our weather has been so stupidly unseasonable and warm that the guys got used to shorts and t-shirts. Until November, that was the MO. With no problem. But then it got chilly, my mom instincts kicked in, and I had to flex my parental muscle. You just DON’T wear shorts and a t-shirt when it’s 50 degrees outside. You don’t. And any kid that’s almost eight years old should get that, right?
I tried to minimize the fuss by going out and buying them pants – the same kind of warmout pants that they both lived in last winter. Got the right sizes and everything. Brought said pants home and –
They rebelled. Refused. Flat out refusal.
So this past weekend I told them that we were going shopping and THEY were going to choose pants for themselves, because shorts are no longer an option. Even if it means I have to hide every pair of shorts in this house.
Off we headed to our little chain store here in the burbs. Sorry, but my budget doesn’t extend to the current Abercrombie/Aeropostale craze. It just doesn’t. Headed to the boys’ section – and – Armageddon. Really. Apparently making young boys choose and try on pants initiates a level of bodily pain akin to an amputation without anesthesia. At least, that’s what all of the nearby shoppers thought on Saturday afternoon. Complete meltdowns on both kids’ parts. And the kicker? One kid found two pair of pants that he liked. They fit. He was happy.
THESE PANTS WERE THE EXACT SAME TWO PAIR THAT I BOUGHT TWO MONTHS AGO THAT ARE STILL HANGING ON THAT KID’S BEDROOM DOOR. Really. Can’t make this stuff up.
So, back the two pair went to the store racks, with the directive that my youngest kid WILL be wearing said pants from now on. The other kid left the store pouting, whining and pantsless – no luck in his size, and lots of short sleeve shirts that he liked. No dice. Not happening. Short sleeves were NOT on the agenda.
I waved the white flag and we went off to dinner. The saga continued yesterday at another chain store in our burb. Youngest kid looked at shirts while the older one and I quested for pants. After much whining and protesting – success! Two pair of pants that met with his approval, along with the same directive – said pants WILL be worn.
But in the midst of this I had to cave. Ended up with both kids pouting about short sleeved shirts they liked. Why in the &%$# do stores put out short sleeves in January? Just to make parents suffer needlessly in some deranged marketing ploy? Guess so. Anyhow, I finally told them that, IF they found two long sleeved shirts they could pick ONE with short sleeves.
After another forty five minutes of bodily-limb amputations (sans anesthesia, of course) we finally succeeded. I went home and took a nap.
My one thought was this: if it’s this bad now – whatever will the teen years be like? And I had to take a moment to once again enjoy the fact that I have boys – because I realized that, if I had girls, I would probably have killed them right then and there. In the middle of Target.
What causes your kids painful amputations? Am I the only one here?
Who knows – maybe Quentin could use this in his next movie – mom goes postal after shopping with kids. The Mom Situation.