Now, on to the subject of short pants. Short pants, in my family, mean shorts. I think it was my Uncle Kevin who coined the phrase for us when we were little and it just kind of stuck. But when I talk about short pants in reference to my son, it's a different matter.
Isaac turned 8 months old last week, which obviously means he is fitting into 18 month old clothes now. Obviously. I mean, who wouldn't think that concerning an 8 month old? Someone must not have sent me the memo when he was born informing me that when we shop for clothes to add 10 months onto the suggested size for an 8 month old. Good golly.
So yeah, Isaac fits into clothes intended for an 18-24 month old kid, which is quite sad considering we have a closet full of clothes that he will never be able to wear. That is unless we want to play, "Chubby baby in a tiny coat," which I wouldn't put past my husband considering he quotes Tommy Boy every chance he gets.
This weekend the temperature dropped considerably and we needed to cover up his deliciously chubby legs, so I went rummaging for some pants for the boy. I spotted a pair and slipped them on. After struggling to get the waistband up past his leg fat I got them on, stood him up and saw that they were...well...too short and a bit too tight. It's not like I was trying to squeeze him into a pair of pants for a 3 month old. They said they were for a 9 month old so, naturally, I thought they would be OK. Not so much.
And yes, the kid is standing and REALLY wanting to walk. He is quite the brave little fella. He pulls himself up, stands there with one hand lightly holding onto whatever he is standing next to and sometimes lets go all together.
Time to invest in a case of Tums....
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