It's springtime at our house... at least by the calendar.
And that means it's time to do a sort-and-purge of all the little boy clothes that have become too snug, too short, too tight, or too little.
As I sorted, I heard Robb in my head. A memory surfaced.
One day, I was tempted to put Tucker's outgrown underwear into Tyler's drawer. I mean, why not? They're in fine shape, we can get another year out of these, and it's not like I'm asking him to wear a dirty pair that his brother just cast aside.
Robb, careful with money and not prone to spending on needless things, nonetheless stopped me on that one.
"Tricia, promise me you'll never give Tyler his brother's hand-me-down underwear. Let's buy him new ones. A man should never have to wear another man's underwear."
(That last sentence is really a pretty good rule for living.)
Let's buy him new ones, he said. I believe we will.
Tyler, you have your daddy to thank for the new underwear.
(And FYI, kiddo, he called you a man. And you weren't yet three years old.)