A couple of weeks ago I took all three kids, plus two friends, to the climbing gym. This in itself was not that unusual. We practically live at the climbing gym. What was unusual about this trip was that when we arrived Queen Bee and I realized that she was wearing a skirt. To climb. Can you say, “I see London, I see France…”?
Queenie was mortified. She immediately burst into tears and begged me to take her home to change. Um, no. I’m not loading five kids, or even just the three youngest kids, back in the van and fighting rush-hour traffic across town to our house and then coming back across town in even more traffic. No, no, no. Instead, I spoke to the instructors and asked if they had any pants or shorts that might possibly fit the Teeny Queenie in their lost and found. Two staff members disappeared into the back for a few minutes and triumphantly emerged with three pairs of drawstring-waist shorts in their hands.
Queen Bee and I went into the women’s changeroom to try on the shorts. They were all adult sizes, but a couple of pairs looked like they might stay up if she cinched the waist as tightly as possible. Queen Bee, already overwrought at having made the mistake of wearing a skirt to climbing, was not in a mood to wear a pair of baggy, extra-large shorts with a bunchy waistband. “They’re clown shorts!” she wailed, and threatened to stay hidden in the changeroom for the duration of the climbing class.
At this point, Tonka’s natural disobedience came to the rescue. Continue reading