More shopping with Youngest on Friday afternoon.
He and I can't agree on clothing. I try to be laid back about it and allow him to dress the way he likes, but I have to draw the line occasionally.
And Heaven forbid that I like a piece of clothing and suggest he try it on. I am met with the sigh . . . the rolling of the eyes . . . the "Oh, Mom . . . " and the criticism. Always the criticism. With the implication that it should be so obvious even a mother could catch on . . . "It looks too 'Charlie Sheen' " is one of my favorites.
"It was easier when Dad and I bought my last pair of jeans," he wanly complained, "I tried them on, we both liked them, and we were done."
"But Youngest, they aren't a good looking pair of pants."
"Comfortable they may be, but they look slobby. And you shouldn't ever leave the house looking like a slob. For that matter, you shouldn't hang out inside the house looking like a slob."
"Well, some day when I have a house of my own I'm going to wear anything I want. As long as my wife lets me . . . "
After shopping, we had dinner out and generally had an enjoyable evening together. In the car on the way home the subject of girls came up--as it inevitably does with a 13 year old boy. After he let it slip that there's a girl he likes at church (and after the ensuing round of probing questions from me) I mentioned that it's best this girl doesn't know he likes her because he's a bit young for a girlfriend just yet.
"I don't want a girlfriend," he adamantly stated. "Girls mess with your head."
"Yeah--you saw what having a girlfriend did to your brother," I joshed.
He answered, "Oh, the humanity!"
Clothes. Girls. Oy.