We're talking no booty whatsoever, nothing to hold his jeans in place.
I don't understand. Even when I was a mere wisp of a high school student (sigh...oh, for the days of size 6), I had a butt. Rick has a butt. Amanda -- butt accounted for.
My poor E-man, however -- well, the only thing that hugs his waist are the pants sized for 12-month-olds. He's 2. And tall. So we're talking about some serious high-water ramifications here.
Today, I put him in 18-month-old pants.
"He can't wear those anymore," Hubs informed me this evening.
Apparently, when Hubs arrived at the day care to pick up E-man, my poor boy was waddling down the hall, clutching at his jeans, pleading, "'Elp! 'Elp!'"
I offer as evidence this Christmas photo. My butt is clearly in evidence. E-man, however, is in danger of losing his pants.
And so I wonder, even though it's only mid-March, would it be inappropriate to make shorts the staple of his wardrobe?
