But last night we found ourselves on a quest to find some appropriate formal clothes for my son to don during various recitals, Christmas programs, church functions, photo ops and other happenings that are so common this time of year.
The problem is (and some of you know this): Finding a suit for a boy is nearly impossible. They grow so fast. They look dorky in those big clothes, and then all of a sudden the clothes are too small. It's just dorky. The other problem is the selection. My son is not going nightclubbing. What numb skull decided it was cute to have young boys dressed up like pimps? It's offensive. They're little boys for crying out loud.
I told my wife,
"I don't want him to look good when he finally grows into his suit. I want him to look good when we walk out of this store, and for the rest of the holidays."I know. I'm going to be buying him another suit next year. I'll deal with it.
Here I'll admit a slight complex about clothes. I got to wear handmade shirts from my grandma when I was a kid. While I'm not complaining about that, I'll just say they were made with love, using the most up-to-date fabrics that the dry goods store in Depew, Oklahoma had to offer. A plaid or paisley (or both, God forbid) Butterick 4078 went nice with my brother's hand-me-down Toughskins Bell-Bottoms.
I'm just sayin.
Four stores and two hours later, we find something we're satisfied with. I let the boy choose everything after it goes through the parent filter. The wife and I are all,
"ok this one?...or...this one?...Are you sure? cuz, that's like kindof weird looking and stuff."Like a nine year old boy would give a rat's pitooty. He'd think playing the piano recital in his Spiderman Halloween costume was the Utopian penultimate act to farting Jingle Bells.
And he's all: "Ok, that one then." He's going along with whatever we say.
I'm glad that's over.




