Moms have it tough. Take my mom. No, really, take my mom (Just kidding Mom!). She still tries to give me clothes but I have some kind of ancient block against them. Ever since I was a boy, I’d pull the shirt out of the bag, hold it up and make some sarcastic comment. “This will be great next time I’m rollerblading at Pismo Beach.” Or, “This is good because my ship is leaving soon and I have nothing to wear on the voyage.” Or, “Thank god you got this. I just discovered a time portal and wanted to head back to 7th grade without being detected.”
It’s obnoxious, I know, but I can’t help it. This Christmas was no different. I opened the dark blue bag, held up the clothes, made comments, and later I returned the clothes, happy to buy some pants for school. A funny thing happened as I was leaving the store, though. I stopped to flip through the shirts and found myself admiring a nice blue plaid number. It was casual and easy on the eyes. ‘Nice shirt,’ I thought. Then it hit me. It was one of the articles of clothing I had just returned.
This makes me go all soft in my mommy mode. And my normal mode loves the smart ass comments. Just generally a nice way to start the day.