"What happened in here? It looks like Goodwill blew up in your room."
"Those aren't my clothes. They're Nicole's."
"Those aren't mine. They're John Daniel's."
I take a closer look and discover MY clothes. "What is this room -- the Bermuda Triangle of clothing?" Why does everything end up in the girls' room like there's some sort of clothing magnet at the end of the hall? If I need a dishtowel I don't look in the kitchen. I look in the mountain of clothing in the girls' room.
"Mom, we need new clothes."
"For what? You have clothes hanging off the lampshade and I can't even see the floor."
"Ha, ha, Momma. Those are our old clothes. They're too small."
"Then you need to pack them up so I can pass them on."
"But we can't do that until we get new clothes or we'll have nothing to wear."
"Nothing to wear." They have no idea what meaning that phrase will assume and how often they'll use it from here on out no matter how many clothes they have that fit perfectly.
So we go to the store. "How does this look, Mom?"
"It fits. Can't you get something bigger so I don't have to take you shopping again in three months?" They won't let me buy them things that are a size too big like I did when they were toddlers. And they certainly won't buy ten of something that fits when they find it. I can still do that with the boys...who are also growing at the speed of light.
Sometimes I think my only purpose in life is to feed the kids and then buy them more clothes because they keep outgrowing the ones I just got them.
That's the trouble with tweens. They grow too fast. And now they're almost as tall as I am. They almost wear the same size shoe. The writing is on the wall. Now is the time to start stashing away my boots, my leather jacket, those few shoes and clothes I have that may appeal to them.
My clothes and shoes are on the verge of extinction. I've got to save them. If the shoe fits, hide it.
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