Sunday at 4:00, Laura and I braved the herd at the Allen Outlet Mall during the last three hours of the tax free weekend. Mostly shopping for ourselves, we quickly scanned the GAP, Banana Republic, Kenneth Cole, Nine West, Guess, a couple of kids' clothing stores and Calvin Klein.
Laura found some $50 jeans that she had to have after trying them on in front of what she called a "skinny mirror" in the fitting room. Since I verified they did, in fact, make her look skinny (she's not fat to begin with), she splurged on a purchase she said she hadn't made since Bailey was born five years ago.
I wasn't in the mood to splurge, but did find a 3 pack of tighty whities for Jason, packaged all nice and neat in a plastic package with a frontside (from the chin down) and backside (from the neck down) picture of a very muscular and tanned model, almost seeming to say, "if you buy these underwear, you will look like me." Its the same psychological crap that occurs when I'm looking through a Victoria's Secret catalog. If I buy these string bikinis, I will look just like her. It worked. I bought two of them and to my disappointment, I still look like me.
Anyway, that night as we were standing in the kitchen while the boys ate their yogurt at the bar, Jason pulled the underwear package out of the bag. He looks at it and then showing the backside picture of the model to the boys, he says, "Hey, guys, does this look like Daddy?" They swallow their yogurt and while looking at each other agree that sure, that looks like Daddy.
Then Jason flips the package over and in a repeat performance, says, "Ok, guys, does this look like Daddy?" This time they hesitate, look at each other and while Jake shakes his head "no", Harrison says, "It looks like Luke."
Jason's shoulder's dropped, he rolled his eyes and quickly stuffed the package back in the bag.
Side note: Luke is our single Marine neighbor who lives across the street and while we're certain he's in great shape from his Iraq training, he does not moonlight as an underwear model.