While the kids were finding their blankets, dolls, and special pillows they apparently can’t sleep without, I changed into my pj’s. When I walked out Carter looked up at me in disdain and asked, “What are those?” I replied, “These are my pajamas, Buddy.” He looked confused for a moment and blurted out, “But, that’s boy underwear… and yellow with crocodiles, not pink.”
He was less than pleased at the idea of his auntie wearing something other than pink. You can’t really explain to a child that there’s nothing more comfortable to sleep in than a pair of boxers stolen from an ex-boyfriend. Hannah, on the other hand, took one look at me and said, “I like your underwear and I’m not scared of them.”
It’s nice to have underwear approval from a three-year-old. Now if I could find an adult male who felt the same way.