Shopping with boys
I took our son (age 10) to the mall to buy summer clothes. I wouldn’t call this shopping in the traditional sense that I, as a female, can relate to. We ripped through the store and grabbed items off the rack at lightning speed. The “try-on” stage would have been skipped entirely except for my rule that I won’t spend my money on any clothes I don’t see tried on, to make sure that they fit within reason.
So we raced through the store to the dressing room. No one was in sight besides me -- a sign of recession? Son asked me to validate that his door was locked. I reiterated that no one was nearby; he locked the door anyway. Various thrashing sounds could be heard, then suddenly a pair of madras shorts came flying over the dressing room door accompanied by the words “too small.” Then another came flying – “too small.” Then the bathing suit came flying -- “just right.”
Out my son emerged with a new shirt on, saying “let’s go, I want to wear this home.” A clever ploy not to have to change back into his old shirt. End-to-end elapsed mall time clocked in at 11 minutes. At least boys outgrow clothes so there is an imperative to shop. With adult men, clothes aren’t replaced unless they are on fire or the men are metrosexuals. Yes, I like antiques, but I don’t expect one’s closet to qualify for an appraisal from Antiques Roadshow.
It’s no secret that most males don’t love shopping. I’ve labeled my husband Greg’s look of mall anguish as “shopping face,” a countenance that is one despair level down from Munch’s The Scream (see picture above). Girlfriends, do you know what I mean by shopping face? Which is why fathers will be disproportionately showered with golf shirts and other outfits for Father’s Day. It’s a win-win-win. We get to see them in new clothes, we don’t have to suffer through a day at the mall with them, and they avoid the same fate.
To be fair, I will follow up at some point with an entry about shopping with girls. Better yet, Greg can write that one.
---Allison
