This morning Megan couldn't find anything to wear. She's not even ten, and it starts already.
This could be a problem, because as shallow as it sounds, I find I like my children so much more when they are dressed and their hair is combed. These simple things are easily forsaken when school is done in the dining room and there are no plans to be anyplace where anyone cares what we look like (besides me) until 6pm.
I went through Meg's pants and jeans with her, and she eliminated one after the other.
"They feel funny inside with pills."
"I have to wear a belt and I hate them."
"They're too tight in the thighs."
"They have holes and I don't like the draft and I don't have any clean leggings to wear under them." (Her solution to the draftiness.)
Jeeez. You mean I need to do laundry too?
But I knew an easy solution that could be done faster than a load of laundry.
Do what my mom always did.
Fashion some patches.
At least Megan won't have to wear leggings under them now.
(And I can procrastinate on the laundry for a few more moments.)