Daniel’s trousers are the latest cause for complaint. I thought we’d escaped the Bum Hanging Out look but should have realised when he no longer outgrew his trousers. Instead of flapping around his ankles and calves, they’re hitched down from the top, and all it takes is a sudden move for them to slip down to his thighs.
Me: Pull them up
Daniel: Withering look
Me: It looks so stupid
Daniel: Muttered expletives
Me: What did you say?
I’m told this originated in US jails for prisoners wishing to indicate their availability, but true or not, this is dismissed by my son as easily as any other I-Know-Better line.
The trouble is that teenagers flick between the sort of indolence that could be mistaken for hibernation, and bursts of energy that see them hurdle any obstacle in their path. I’ve noticed Dan no longer leapfrogs over traffic meters (low crotch traps you mid-flight). However vaulting single handed over armpit high gates is still an option and leaves my jaw trailing. The highest thing I jump these days is the cat sprawled over the carpet – when I see her in time.
Meanwhile, Converse pumps are truly All Stars. After years of screeching at the boys (in vain) to undo their laces, Converse shoes necessitate it. Like the trousers, my boys go for the Lo riding versions, but the opening’s so small it’s impossible to get them on or off without untying laces. And I get a kick out of watching them lace up afterwards, delighted that they do know how to, after all.
Maybe Converse just works for my kids because they have clown feet – long and thin – but, then again Luke’s discarded Converse sneakers look like a pair of canoes. And they’re unlaced.
No comments:
Post a Comment