The Adventures of Captain Underpants

Flashback Time- As a mother of two boys, there's really nothing much cuter than your two year old son in brand spanking new Superman Underoos.  You lovingly buy these to entice your adorable baby boy to get excited for potty training. Armed with loads of internet advice, a bag of reward M&M's, and naivety you embark on what is sure to be a piece of cake.

.......And then......you actually potty train.

Now fortunately for me, my Mom (AKA-Bubbles) had blessed us with the sage advice that when potty training boys, you can start at two and they'll be done by three or you can start at 2 years 11 months, and they'll still be done by three. I'm sure that some of you have sons that were aiming and firing right off the bat with the precision of snipers. To you people, I applaud your superior pee teaching skills and secretly pray that you will one day have horrible teenagers. Anywho, for both boys it was a laborious task that thank the heavens is a blur years later. I'm also proud to report that neither child will be shipping off to college in pull-ups (believe me, you will be convinced otherwise when they're toddlers). We are out of the world of diapers, Amen-Halleluiah! At this point, one would think that there would be no more blog worthy incidents concerning undergarments. That was the case until one decided to start having opinions about style.

Spazz the elder, is by far the most laid back of our two about clothing. In years past,  he would have happily trotted to school in scuba gear if that's what we laid out for him. This year we've seen a bit of a shift, particularly in the fruit of the loom of it all. We've always been a briefs by the pack kind of family. It's cheaper and really no one should see one's pants so what does it matter. Apparently it matters when you're nine and there are discussions around the lunch table of boxers vs. briefs. Spazz actually asked Santa for boxers this year, that's how dire this fashion crisis was. So thanks to his new Santa gifted boxers, his coolness factor was once again restored and all was right with the world.

Everything was groovy, until we hit one of those normal rare weeks, when the laundry gets behind and we're all down to the last pair of draws'. In poor Spazz's case, this meant either returning to the very un-chic last pair of way too small briefs, pulling a college kid and turning them inside out (ew, seriously, ew), or wearing the pair of boxers that his best friend had left from a sleepover. These had been washed and bleached repeatedly as they kept getting thrown into the dirty clothes. So statistically speaking, these were probably the best option he had going. What followed was a very heated debate about the pros and cons of each choice. Surely, the entire student body would be instantly aware of his underwear choice for the day. His whole 4th grade career rested on this one monumental decision.

Just as he was reaching for the one size too small Borat skivvies, Dad came to the rescue by finding a lone pair of clean boxers stuck in the pants leg of his jeans fresh from the dryer. Order had once more been restored, the crisis was averted.

So why you may ask, have I aired our family's literal dirty laundry? What's the moral of this whole story? Underwear is and always will merit a giggle, and next year Santa needs to splurge on two packs.