However this year he decided since he’s starting high school, he should maybe attempt to be a little more fashionable and actually wear jeans. Now this is a kid who has not voluntarily worn denim pants of any kind since he was old enough to strip them off and run away screaming “NO OUCHIE PANTS” at the top of his lungs (he’s also the kid who complained bitterly if the seam of his socks were not perfectly aligned and demanded all tags be removed from the inside of every item of clothing because they felt “yucky”). I place the genetic blame squarely on his dad who’s personal favourite item of clothing was a shitty old pair of combat camo pants he owned since he was 15 and literally wore them to rags only last year. And trust me, I spent 19 years trying to throw those fucking pants out and visibly cringed every single time he wore them. Which was unfortunately often.
Before we got out of the car at the mall for this year’s shopping trauma, I made Spielberg swear to me he would a) choose at least 2 pairs of jeans and b) bitter complaining would be kept to a minimum. I swear, the closer we got to the store, the more his face twisted in a knot and the grumbling intensified, reaching it's complainy crescendo when confronted with stacks upon stack of the denim enemy, which meant it was time to employ psychological tactics with military-like precision. This meant digging through eleventy million styles of jeans to find the one pair with the most lycra in them so I could point out how sweatpant-like they were because look, stretchy!! Comfy!!! Just like sweatpants!! Denim sweatpants!! And then as soon as he grudgingly admitted they’re “ok, I guess, but I still hate jeans”, I stealthily grabbed a second pair in a slightly different colour and distracted him with zombie tshirts so I could quickly pay for the object of his pants-related hatred and get him the hell out of the store before he changed his mind. Mom:1 Spielberg:0
|Thankfully these jeans were not amongst the choices in the store. Because I bet Spielberg would have insisted on them, partly out of comfort but mostly out of spite|
And yes, he actually wears the jeans. The minute he gets home from school however, off come the jeans and on go the shorts/sweatpants. I suppose I can relate, because the minute I walk in the door, I release the twins from bra prison, so he comes by that feeling of uncomfortable-clothing freedom honestly