The kids and I went to a posh children’s store yesterday to check out their sale. We had only just stepped through the door when my daughter announced with a giggle, “Mummy, my pants are falling down.” She was not the least bit embarrassed but I was mortified as her cute little denim shorts plummeted to the shop floor. I pulled them back up to her waist and held them there until we were safely behind a bookcase where I could investigate the problem.
It was soon apparent that my curious toddler had been fiddling with the buttons inside her shorts, and undone the elastic on the adjustable waistband. I managed to catch one end of the elastic before it disappeared, but the other end was nowhere to be seen, lost inside a tunnel of denim. If we had been at home I would have taken the shorts off her and used something long and skinny to retrieve the elastic, but of course I couldn’t do either of these things. All I could do was crouch down (with a baby strapped to my front) and use my fingers to push, poke, pull and wriggle the lost end back to the safety of a button.
It took quite a while, and by the time I finally caught the end of the elastic I was frustrated, my back ached and my fingers hurt. My toddler looked at me, put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry Mum. It’s no big deal.” Out of the mouths of babes. I was so frazzled and I wasn’t even the one with my pants down. Kids have a wonderful way of putting things back into perspective.