Wild Thing

A few years ago we went all out on Easter clothes for all the kids. Kennedy had a really fancy dress for the Military ball, so Jasmine got a fancy dress. Tre was really little, so he got a little short outfit, but Micah, being the big boy that he was, needed a suit. I would have been content to go to Target and find something reasonable because that's the way I am, but Dale wanted to buy him a really nice suit. He found one at Burlington Coat Factory, made by Fubu, that cost a lot, LOT, of money. I went along with it, thinking he could wear it for a couple of years and it would ultimately be a practical purchase. Needless to say, Micah wore the suit twice before he outgrew it.

Tre, somehow, has been able to fit the suit ever since. To say he's built leaner than Micah is kind of an understatement. If boys were two-wheeled transportation, Tre would be a ten-speed, Micah would be a Harley. The kid is about the turn six and the suit is a 4, but he still slides right into it. The problem is that we live in California. No one dresses up for anything around here. I haven't been to a wedding recently, but seriously, there were kids in sweat pants on Easter Sunday this year. So it hangs in the closet in all its glory, just passing the days until it goes out in a garbage bag to Goodwill.

This past week, Jasmine comes in wearing a wedding dress and walking around like she's the Queen of Sheba or something, getting all kinds of attention, which tripped Tre's trigger. He begged to put on his *tuxedo*. I don't like to let him play in it because: A. He's accident prone. Case in point, he was cutting some paper with scissors in his bed two nights ago and he clipped his toe. Even though he never cried until I drowned it in peroxide, it still bleeds when we take the band-aid off. B. He's an incredibly messy eater. It's gotten better, but he still doesn't quite get the concept of taking a bite; he thinks he needs to finish a meal in one bite, if it's possible. And he tries to make that possible by unloading as much from the plate into his mouth as he can cram in there. . And C. He's accident prone. The kid spills something every day. He knocks something over EVERY SINGLE DAY. The chances of the tuxedo coming out unscathed from a couple of hours of playtime with Tre are as slim as he is. It's a nice suit and I want someone else to enjoy it's fantasticness someday. But it's also his, and it's just hanging in the closet. So I let him put it on sometimes. This week was one of those exciting times and this is what you get when you get Tre in a tuxedo. Look out universe.

He spent close to twenty minutes on his hair, and apparently he prefers to have one side of the collar popped and the other side in place. He also talks like a Vally Boy- lots of heavy sighs and *dude*s, and he doesn't smile because smiling is not cool. He's my kid. What else can I say?