Well, it's happened. While rummaging for something warm to wear, I picked up a black fleece sweatshirt from the laundry pile on my bed, and put it on. It fit, but I realized that it wasn't one of MY sweatshirts I was wearing. It was one of the boys'. I was wearing their clothes. And they FIT. How did we get to this point? The boys were eating breakfast, and I ran in there to see if they recognized the shirt I was wearing. They didn't, so I had to tell them.
Colby: "Mom, are you getting smaller, so that our clothes fit?" Bless his little heart, the adorable tyke. Sweet, perfect child.
Mom: "No. I wish. You're just getting BIGGER!"
Colby: "Mom, did you have to stretch it out to make it fit you?"
Mom: "Nope. It just fit!"
Quinn: "Did you have to squash it down to make it smaller so it would fit?" Oh, my brilliant son, who knows exactly what to say.
Mom: "Nope. It just fit."
I've been having a hard time lately determining which socks are the boys', and which are mine, because they LOOK like almost the same size when there's no feet in them. It begins. My babies are growing up. Soon, I will be looking UP to them. {{SHUDDER}}}. They don't listen to me NOW. What will it be like when they're bigger than me?????
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Learned this from a 5'2" friend with three 6'4" sons: You have to sleep at some point, I have a baseball bat, and I don't play fair. She said it worked just fine!!!
Post a Comment