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We’re lucky enough to be hooked into a network of friends who are heavy shoppers and relatively easy on clothes, so most of my children’s attire passes down through them.
This is such a blessing.
Inevitably, there are gaps and lags in the available clothing to the point that even I must occasionally indulge in a new outfit. If it’s from Wal-Mart. And on the clearance rack.
And the next size up. I’m religious about buying clothes too large for my kids, on the theory that if it’s big this June, it will still fit next June. Usually this works.
So when the boy’s short started rolling down below his toddler belly and my upstream supplier showed no signs of passing on the goods, I kept a sharp eye out for bargains.
What I eventually found was a pair of plaid shorts with a polo shirt in a shade of blue I knew would match his eyes. The shorts had purple (purple!) in the plaid, which possibly accounted for them being on the clearance rack.
A boy wearing purple? Is that done?
He’s at the stage where he must do everything himself, so after washing this find, I laid it out one morning for him to discover. He babbled with excitement at finding something new to wear, not to mention the challenge of a snap, zomg a snap!
With only a modicum of drama, he stuffed himself into the outfit. He donned his sister’s dress-up heels and held one of my old purses. On his head he wore a white plastic container. As a hat. He stood before me in this new get-up and beamed with pride.
In his sweet face I could see the past. His face is a miniature of his father’s, minus the tight lines of age and without the overlay of ashamed deceit. I hope he never acquires that overlay.
I could also see the future. He’ll wear something similar on his first day of kindergarten, I’m sure, and his face will glow with innocent pride then too.
Maybe by kindergarten though he’ll have left behind the dress-up shoes and purse, and he won’t run away shrieking when I tell him his pants are on backwards.



