Didn't I promise no more underwear stories? Well, this isn't much of a story, more of a big fat whine-fest. So there.
I spent nearly fifty dollars on underwear yesterday. No, not the kind that one could get really are excited about. This kind has SpongeBob on it and helicopters.
The littlest one, when he chooses to wear it, is about to explode out of his pants. They're the ones we've been wearing for two years now, on and off. And, well, they're a little tight. And the day that I helped him with his pants and marveled at how easily his underwear went on, only to realize that it was his older brother's underwear, was the day that I decided that it was time that we ditch the too-small-hand-me-down underwear for some fresh duds.
And to Target we went. He picked out some fun ones, and I picked out some less fun ones and his older brother got to pick out some new ones for sleeping in, as his were a little, let say, uncomfortable looking.
So here we now are, 15 pairs of underwear richer. But good grief! Who knew?