I think I’ve mentioned before that I started my family young. I was two at the time I took the maternity route which really makes me a lousy authority figure for my offspring. She likens us to Gilmore Girls, who in truth, are infinitely cooler than weeee or sheeee or meeeee but weeeee.
Mei Mei has moved out. She’s left home. She has vacated the abode. She’s vamoosed the nest. Flown the coop. She’s moved to adultland in her own zip code which is bereft of Mumsy. You know what that means?
Pants are now optional in my world. That’s right.
I look on Facebook and I see all of my friends announcing their children’s progress and advancement to their next grades; their next birthdays and milestones and I’m over here smiling with the mildly savage joy that they are still legally obligated…to wear pants.
Much love to those who are still in the child rearing game. I believe it takes a village and I hate parent shaming. I take my hat off to ya and offer up a prayer for your continued patience as your spawn advance into teen years. Little kids, little problems…oh you know that old chestnut.
And while I will support you infinitely and offer up my experience and pithy if not occasionally sarcastic advice…know this…
I may or may not be wearing pants when said advice is doled out.