Monday, August 19, 2013

This Shirt Business Must Be In The Genes

Like father, like son. The horse-apple doesn't roll far from the steaming pile. No need to seek a paternity test for my young 'un and his daddy.

My personal beast of burden, my trusty Pony, packed all of my classroom accouterments out to T-Hoe this morning. He rushed back in for a splash of kitchen sink water on his forelock, which has recovered handsomely from that shearing last spring. We hit the trail. Rolled into Newmentia right on time. The Pony loaded up and bore our provisions into the building. From my classroom, he headed for the open range of the gym, to wait for his first class.

It was during this first class, band, but who's keeping track, that he found out what kind of friends he really has.

"Uh. I think your shirt is inside out."

Poor Pony! He does not like to be a spectacle. No seeker of the center of attention is he. I can only imagine his consternation and embarrassment. He could not have been more uncomfortable if he suddenly found his skeleton on the outside. He dashed into the boys' bathroom to remedy his gladrags. To skin that cat of a white shirt exactly like the one Farmer H wore inside-out just before leaving to visit the #1 son the second day of college.

Thank the Gummi Mary, Pony had a buddy and a feisty lass to tip him off before he hit the main hallway like Kramer strolling down the boulevard in the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, wielding his fancy walking stick, rockin' a wide-brimmed hat sporting a feather.

The Pony. One of the sartorially-challenged. At least we know where he gets it.


Sioux said...

Although I try when it comes to my own son, I wouldn't recommend blaming ALL of Pony's slightly negative character traits on Farmer H.

I am SURE that there is at least one that he got from you. I wonder what it is...

Kathy's Klothesline said...

Poor Pony! Things we find trivial can be the end of the world to teens! I arrived home from the grocery one time to hear 13 year old girl twin gasp in horror, "MOM, you went to the store with a measuring tape around your neck! People know you are my mother!!" Boy twin says, " I don't care about that, did you know your zipper is down?" I was unaware of anything other than the fact that I was in a hurry to get dinner on.

Hillbilly Mom said...

How dare you insinuate that I have negative character traits, Madam! No 44 oz. Diet Coke for you! No gas station chicken for you! You shall rue the day you opened that can of nematodes and platyhelminthes, my dear! And the day you consulted your BFF Google to see what's in the can.

And just fifteen minutes ago our beleaguered Farmer H strode into my basement lair stating that he had busted his own lip. Clumsiness. Yet another trait The Farmer's DNA has to offer.

I have only passed on my sunny personality and penchant for seeing the good in everybody.

At least YOU never announced, in front of a bevy of Little Caesar's customers, "Do you know how hard it was to balance this pizza while I was standing here holding your balls?"

That I know of, anyway.

The Pony should be glad it was just a simple wardrobe malfunction.