Surely this face wouldn't lie, right? Here's my little stinker wearing the famed new gray jeans (when they were still unblemished).
This isn’t about Gatlinburg. It isn’t even about travel at all. But it’s what’s on my heart today. And you’re gonna get some of that this year.
I only have sisters. I didn’t grow up knowing a lot about little boys. But I’ve sure enjoyed having one of my own. I love the extra snuggles for his mom. I love the crazy energy. I love the roughness, the constant motion. I love it all. I’m so, so thankful to have a little boy. But there’s one thing that no one told me about having a boy. And I wish they would have
Jeans. I wish they’d told me to stockpile them. Buy on sale, lots of pairs, far in advance. Because boys, my little boy, at least, will rip a hole in the knee within mere weeks of a brand-spankin’ new pair of jeans being fitted on their bodies. Before they are soft and broken in. Before they have time to fray at the bottom. Likely before the kid has brushed his teeth six times. A hole will show up in that knee. Every time.
Which is where today’s parenting story begins. Jaybin knows how frustrated I get about the jeans. I don’t get frustrated at him — I know he’s just playing hard — but I get frustrated just the same. Kids’ clothes are expensive!
Last week, we decided to take pictures of the kids. My husband is an amateur photographer and likes to take the kids’ annual photos. My first thought? Not one pair of Jaybin’s jeans is without a big, gaping hole. So I made an emergency run to Target.
Where I found some really neat gray jeans that fit the photo idea I had perfectly. Yes! Win!
The pictures turned out great! I was a happy mom. Yes, this chapter of the story is good.
And then Tuesday happened. It was only the second (read: SECOND!) time Jaybin had worn the jeans to school. He comes home with, you guessed it, a hole. But it wasn’t in the knee. It was on his CALF! And it wasn’t a normal rip-typed hole. Instead, it was a small triangular slit.
You know what I thought as soon as I saw it: He CUT that hole!
I asked immediately, shocked that the perfect gray jeans could ALREADY have a hole. Could already be headed for the beat-up-jeans-to-wear-only-when-everything-else-is-dirty-and-only-with-a-bulky-sweatshirt pile. He straight-up denied. “I don’t know how that got here, Mom. Must’ve done it at recess, I guess.”
I pushed; he kept claiming ignorance. He has these big, brown eyes that just make you want to believe…
I admit it. I gave up. Ridiculously early. Softy. Yes, that’s me.
Now here’s where my husband comes into the story. I have to give him some serious credit here. In our marriage, there are several things that I do better. I’m usually more willing to play games or do crafts with the kids. I’m much more patient at bed time. But discipline is strictly in his court. I give up easily. He is SO persistent.
In the evening, I had Jaybin show Jason the hole in his jeans. “Yeah, dad,” Jaybin said nonchalantly, “don’t know how it happened.”
“Wait a minute,” Jason quickly replied. “You don’t know how it happened? How can you not know? You were wearing the pants all day today, right?”
They went back and forth. Jaybin pushed hard for his “don’t know” theory. Jason was having none of it. That’s when I’d usually throw in the towel. “Can’t prove it,” I’d think, even though I’d know something shady was going on.
Finally, Jason sent Jaybin to his room, telling him to come back when he was ready to tell the truth. Jaybin burst into tears. And went to his room.
Fifteen minutes past. Jaybin asked if he could come down. “I’m ready to tell the truth,” he said.
His new story? Emersyn, a girl he sits next to in class, accidentally cut the jeans with her scissors. “At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what happened,” he said.
Of course, Jason jumped all over the “pretty sure.” He reenacted the whole thing, asking Jaybin if he could feel it if someone cut his jeans. Jaybin stuck to his (new) story.
Finally, I pulled out the “I’m telling” card. I said that jean-cutting is a serious offense, so I’d be calling his teacher the next day to report Emersyn’s transgression. “But I guess Emersyn should get in trouble, if she’s the one who cut your jeans,” I said.
Jaybin looked troubled. But he stuck to a slightly shakier version of his story.
Well, this went on. Like I said, my husband is a persistent, patient discipliner. The evening finally culminated with Jaybin breaking down and admitting his lie, saying he’d cut his own jeans and was scared he’d be in trouble.
And he was right to be. Today, he spent an hour cleaning out the garage, working off some of that $16 he now owes us. I think he’s learning the lesson.
When he told me his stomach hurt too much to help me with something earlier today, I told him I’d give him one chance to tell me the truth. Did his stomach really hurt?
He thought a minute. “No,” he said. “I just said that because I didn’t want to pick up my toys.” It’s progress, right?
It was a parenting triumph, to be sure. My husband ruined most of a perfectly good night by making a crying kid and a grumpy father. I wanted to call a truce long before, to restore peace to the house. But the persistence taught an important lesson. Actually, two. One, to my son, that lying to stay out of trouble is NEVER okay. And two, to me. That’s it’s worth it to take the time to teach a lesson correctly. Even if it makes for a pretty terrible evening.
One final thought, then I’m off for today: Anyone have any advice for keeping holes out of jeans for, oh, two months or so?
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