About three years ago, my endometriosis was really kicking in and I was tired in the mornings, especially mornings after work. One morning as I was lying in bed, Zach sauntered in wearing his Superman pajama pants and a very cocky smile. He stopped in front of my side of the bed, hands on his hips.
"Good morning," I said sleepily.
He continued to stare at me without speaking, frozen in his Superman pose.
"Hi, honey, " I added.
Then I saw something on his pants, right in the front, but without my contacts in I couldn't quite tell what I was looking at. Peering closer, my sleep-fuddled mind was trying to work -- "What's on his pants? Is that an acorn??"
Needless to say, it was NOT an acorn. My darling son had taken scissors and cut a hole into the front of his pajama pants, allowing (ahem.) something to hang out, and was strutting around the house thus exposed.
"Zach!" I yelped, hopping out of bed. "What did you do?! Take those pants off! And don't use the scissors like that!!"
"What?" he innocently smiled, his dimples working their magic.
Later in the day when I told my husband what HIS son had done, he was immediately concerned about everything having remained intact, and once I reassured him, he smiled proudly. Of course.
The Superman pajamas are folded up in my closet, and will be reappearing only once, when I had them over to my future daughter-in-law the night before their wedding.
