You know that awful feeling when you have too much shirt bunched up in one spot where you tucked it in? Or even if the tiniest section of underwear is folded over at the seam, but it feels like you have a 2008 telephone book jammed between your rear and the office chair? Yeah, that feeling means nothing to boys. In fact, after assisting the brothers in getting ready for K5 today, I’m pretty sure they actually enjoy it.
We don’t usually help much as the brothers get dressed, other than telling them to stop building train tracks while they’re naked, or reminding them that the shoes go on after the pants, etc. (If we failed to say these things, the rest of us would end up in the van, ready to roll, while the brothers were still launching hot wheels cars into the train station. In their underwear…maybe.) But today as I found myself helping them, I was reminded that boys don’t even really care if clothes are ON, let alone if they’re on correctly.
Shirt jammed inside the underwear on one side, tangled in the belt on the other? No problem.
Socks pulled up 72% of the way, with remaining 28% crammed into the toe of the shoes? Perfect. Yeah, we love it that way.
Waistband of the undies twisted into a sadistic pretzel-shaped wad that causes red and blue welts on the hips? Who cares, Dad!! There might be a prize in the cereal box, gotta go!!
They are so disinterested in the installation of the clothing that it barely makes it onto their bodies as they race for the door, chasing rumors of strawberry mini-wheats in the kitchen. Today Nicholas was whining because “my belt won’t work.” Upon further inspection I discovered he had threaded the belt through the second loop to his right of his zipper, then across the front of his pants and all the way around the back, where a giant pretzel wad of underwear, shirt, and pants had created an insurmountable roadblock just above his right butt cheek. He’s all torquing his neck around backwards, trying to see what the problem is, while keeping one eye on the Thomas the Train covered bridge expansion project he and Nathan had been naked-building before I shut down construction. Even if he somehow managed to navigate the giant underwear wad with the belt, his buckle would end up fastened directly under his right armpit.
“Give me that thing,” I grumbled at him, and began unspooling belt, shirt, underwear and all. “We’re gonna have to do a total re-tuck here. How in the world do you guys manage?” But I can tell he doesn’t care one bit. Primary concern for Nicholas at this point, six minutes into his morning is:
- Jam clothes onto body in any formation possible so Dad will leave me alone with Thomas Train bridge construction project
- Beg/borrow/manipulate Mom into giving up pop tarts or sugar cereal on Wednesday even though that is only allowed on Saturdays
- Race to beat all siblings to the van in order to obtain custody of dvd remote control, invoking giant screaming fight with brothers
And we wonder why men of all ages still have trouble missing a belt loop on frequent occasions. Are you kidding me? Being former boys, we’re doing good just to avoid tucking our shirts into our underwear.