Imagine you're a deer. You're prancing along, you get thirsty, you spot a little brook, you put your little deer lips down to the cool clear water...

The bulk of Saturday was spent looking for uniform pants for Jordan. Hunter green uniform pants.

Or, as I like to call them, hunter fucking green uniform fucking pants.

I was all ranty. "There's plenty of navy! Plenty of khaki! Who the fuck thinks green is a good idea? Hunter fucking green!"

And so on and so forth.

We went to the recommended uniform store in Silver Spring. They have no changing room, but fortunately, Jordan has no problem dropping his drawers anywhere. He was far more interested in the hanger ("Pinchy thing! Pinchy thing!" than anything else.)

This photo is of Jordan in 4T shorts. They don't seem to make uniforms smaller than 4T, at least not officially uniforms, which seem to be the only kind you can find in HUNTER FUCKING GREEN.

And so we put him in these shorts and discussed the possibility of taking them in...but the fact is that his whole little body can fit through one leg. If we were in Scotland I suppose we could just have him wear a kilt, which would also be helpful in the pee pee department.

We are, however, not, and thus we sallied on, looking for wee hunter green pants in 3T. We went to American Apparel, because it was right there. Then Kohl's. Then Target.

Throughout this adventure, Jordan kept saying he had to pee. So Nick would pick him up bodily and rush him to the nearest bathroom, where Jordan would stand and stand and then be all, "I don't want to pee pee."

There were a couple times while we were driving where we pulled off into a neighborhood and they went and stood in the bushes. If a grown man and a half-naked little boy don't look sketch crouching in the bushes together, I don't know what does.

He was, however, not about to pee just anywhere. That kid held it all day, until we got home. And then he would only pee on the deck.

In any case, at Target we got the one pair of 3T green (but not hunter) pants we could find.

And then, then my dear outing friend and I headed to the Carter's outlet, where they had the same pants, but too small and too large. I asked a guy working there if they had more in the back, in 3T.

He brought out a pair! I asked if they had more, and he said, "Yes, lots." So I asked for SIX MORE! And he brought them out, just like no big deal.

My friend said she almost hugged the young man, but she was afraid of startling him.

There were no green shorts to be had. So my boy, he has to wear pants on the hot days, but at least he blends.

Pretty sure at this point the teacher is more focused on a class filled with sobbing three-year olds (as was the case this morning, which made me feel better; the day prior it was only Jordan) than on which  fucking pants they're wearing.