Shopping with teen boys

For a long time boys don't care what they wear.  Then suddenly, apparently they do.  See, this is virgin territory to me because Chet (probably due to his autism) has never made it out of the don't care phase. In his case, he doesn't care about style.  He cares if it itches. If it has a tag.  If it makes him feel like he can't bend his legs, etc.  Those things he has cared about since infancy and they and about a gazillion more restrictions, define his wardrobe to this day.

But Rob, well Rob was easy.  Till he became a teen.  We wash a lot at our house so our kids don't need a bazillion clothes.  Usually summer wardrobe is something like 3 pair of shorts, 2 pair of long pants about 5 t shirts and a couple bathing suits.  Except that when you go away to camp it isn't like that.   Because the nice camp people don't do wash every day. So by day 3 you either smell or  . . . well I don't know what the alternative is.  For me, it was taking Rob to the store to buy the number of shorts that equalled the number of days at camp.  And a pair of PJs and enough undies for 7 days.  (we usually have 3 of those as well.)  So I set off with Rob, KC and Lissa to the big store in the mall. 

Rob is at that hard place size wise--nearly out of the bigger sizes of the kids, not quite truly into the mens dept.  He  has also apparently decided that plaid is very, very cool.  His skateboard shoes are plaid.  The first 3 pairs of shorts he chose to try on are plaid.  I would have suggested we add bagpipes and a kilt except the plaid shorts did not fit.  We tried a bigger size and they were too big. The size below, too small.  Did Rob move to the next rack?  Nope.  Stood there staring at the plaid shorts like they were going to suddenly morph into the perfect size and fit his tall slender frame.  Meanwhile KC and Lissa have grown bored.  About 10 minutes has passed.  This is no longer amusing and they decide it is time to tap dance in the aisle.  Really.

With one eye on the tapping duo, I ask Rob if he plans on standing there indefinately or if we can try on another style.  He ambles over and I haul out a pair of black athletic style shorts.  Black is the default fashion color of choice for my lad.  Yup, I score.  He tries them on. They fit.  He likes them.  He needs 2 more pair.  I ask what other colors he would like.  Truly, you would think I had asked him if General Petraus was up to the job in Afganistan for the input I got.  He hemmed and hawed and finally said he'd like an ORANGE pair. Yup.  Orange.  OK they have orange.  In small and medium.  He needs a large.  I ask if we can sub in a yellow pair. Maybe it would look orange if he squinted or something?  Yellow attracts bees he announces to me.  I pause to check on the dancing wee ones and remind them that the mannequins do. not.dance.with. them.  I come back and Rob is still standing there.  I think I see moss growing on his sneakers he has stood still so long.  I suggest blue.  Nope.  He likes any color except blue.  (and yellow obviously, but I am mature and don't go there) 

I finally tell him that we can do his shopping now or we can not do his shopping, but the dancing siblings are reaching the end of their tether and quite frankly, probably so are the store's staff. This makes him laugh and he picks out 2 pairs quicker than you could imagine. For those desperate to know, he chose red and a pair that was black but had a white stripe.  And one pair turned out to be reversable which seems incredibly useful with boys!  ROFL

Then we had to go to the mens dept to get PJs.  He is just a bit past the Iron Man PJ's that KC suggested or the Spider man ones that Lissa suggested.  There was more dancing and entertainment in the mens area but we finished there comparatively quickly.  He is now packed for camp except for meds and hygiene items.  And I am so going to miss his twerpy little self!  {g}