Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Stinky

Somehow the boy made it to eighth grade without ever purchasing a gym suit. (I explain that dressing out is to help keep one from being Super Stinky and offending others with one's vile reek. He says there are only four people who ever tell him he smells, so he figures this is an issue for those four people, and not so much for him.) This means that I had no idea that gym suits were ordered in the Spring for the following year. The children said the gym suits could be ordered, and they obligingly picked up order forms as instructed by their coaches from the office. The forms say uniforms ordered will be in around September 30th, but the coaches say the students must dress out by today. So we decide we will not order these uniforms after I fill out the forms to purchase the $30 (!) shorts and t-shirt combo.
We pile into the car in the middle of dinner preparations to pick up one item needed for the meal, gym clothes in the specific color shorts and shirts, and whatever else the kids need. A band binder, a package of a zillion (when we only need 10) sheet protectors, and the hunt for Red October... er, a pencil pouch and gym shorts later, we discover that we will have to go elsewhere. We head home to inhale dinner with me fuming over these constant one-more-thing trips.
Don takes Katie back out in search of P.E. clothes because I am determined that Erin will shower in hopes that some of them will be in bed on time. Kate and Don have to hit not one, but two Targets, before turning up any navy shorts in Kate's size at all.
There are no pencil pouches whatsoever left in all the world except some with flowers or others with kittens on them. I filched the one from my stash that was intended for the boy's art supplies (because he says he already has everything he needs) to give Katie for band. Evan then states he might not have everything he needs, and he should have a binder and (Grrr.) a pencil pouch. He also looks at me like I have lost my mind when I remind him to take his gym clothes to school. We repeat the stinky conversation, but he fails to appear convinced. Why exactly did we race around looking for gym clothes?!

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