Big G has a cousin who’s 3 years older than him, so we get a good amount of hand-me-downs. This works out nicely since we’re poor. The only drawback to this plan? My nephew, Gigantor, the 6-year-old boy who is almost as tall as his mother. Admittedly, I have been known to call my sister-in-law “Shrimpy McShrimp,” but still.
When I pulled out the summer clothes this week, I discovered a total of two short-sleeved shirts. I was terribly confused until a phone call to my brother clarified the situation–Gigantor grew so quickly that he completely skipped 4T summer clothes. Which means–yay! I get to buy clothes for my son! Also, boo! I have to buy clothes for my son! I dislike this situation, because it confuses my priorities. I need to shop! I need to save money! But my son needs clothes! But I’m so poor! I don’t need this stress.
Since temperatures are in the 70s now, I decided Big G probably needs a few t-shirts, like, yesterday, so I set off to Shopko. It’s much closer to my house than Wal-Mart, but not at all less frightening.
Big G is now of an age where I can start poking around the boys’ clothing rather than the toddler sizes. Fun, right? Yeah, not so much. I am, quite frankly, horrified by the options available to my 4-year-old. First up, we have the “Peter Steele died so I won’t be leaving my room for the next week” look:
Next up, we have the “I’m a damn hippie” look:
I’ve always been a fan of the “It’s never too early to contemplate death” look:
And last, but certainly not least, the “Train a child up” look:
Did I happen to mention that my son is FOUR? I realize I’m probably reading too much into all of this, and I need to loosen up, but really?
I do continue to be grateful for my boys. I’d much rather contend with this: