Is there anything more miserable than making your seven-year-old son try on a closet full of clothes to see what fits? A yearly ritual before the start of school in most households, we've been exempt for years. My sister has a son who is several years older than Joe, and she had been handing down clothes for almost 10 years now. So each fall, I simply pulled out the properly labeled tote, hung everything up, and voile! Instant wardrobe. No dragging kids into stores, stuffing them into dressing rooms, trying things on... it was bliss, really. Sadly, this is slowly coming to an end. The boys are catching up in size, and fewer pair of jeans that are still in one piece make it to my house.
"I don't want to do this, Mom!"
Neither to do I, son.
So now I've barricaded Joe and I in his room as he fluctuates between whining and rolling on the floor, or yelling, "watch my skeleton move, Mom!" And proceeds to gyrate all over the room in a flailing of limbs. The moves change with each shirt theme, so I was treated to snowboarding moves, bear moves, shark moves, snow moves... and a 20 minute chore turned into 40.