Roser started a new job recently. For the first time in about nine years, we have a company Christmas party. It is a family Christmas party. I didn't even try to talk XY17 into it, and we gave XX13 the choice to go or spend the night with a friend. XY10 and XX5 were not given a choice. We tend to be a pretty casual family, with spotty church attendance, so at any given time, the closest my boys have to dress clothes is black Dickies, and tennies that their toes aren't poking through. I had to go all out and buy XY10 a full dress outfit. My daughters are easier, as they just naturally dress up more. Still, I had to get XX5 a fancy dress. Oh, and joy of joys, I had to buy a ginormous pair of pants to cover my fat ass. Oh yeah! Yesterday was a great day.
I decided to go with comfort in mind for the kids. XY10 got twill pants instead of full on dress pants, and XX5 got a stretch velvet dress, with no taffeta, or netting, or anything stiff or itchy anywhere. I had a shirt picked out that I thought he and Roser would like, cause Roser cares about that stuff. As I walked through the store with the shirt, I realized I hated it. I went back and picked the one I liked, and decided to just bear the anger of my boys. I went to four different stores to find a pair of dress shoes that would not make the boy bleed from the eyes and call on fire from above to put him out of his misery. The shoes were the most expensive thing I bought, and if I'm lucky, he will wear them, maybe six times. Sigh.
When I got home, XY10 and several similarly mop haired 10 year olds were waiting to go cause havoc at the park down the street. I showed him the stuff I bought him, and when he saw the shirt, I was rewarded with a "That shirt's sick!" If you are a unfamiliar with 10 year old boys, that means he liked it. A Lot.
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