Wooly mammoth no-shave man hunt for pants.

We’re Thankful For Pants

We, SubFam, decided that we would do something different for Thanksgiving this year. We’ve never left town just the four of us for a holiday before. We’ve been married for 14 years, and together for 17 and always stayed around with our extended families for the holiday. We thought it would be fun and different to spend some time together, relaxing, hanging out, and just being a little family of four.

Everything was going exactly as planned. We left early Thursday morning, after we had the kids pack up their bags the night before. Shortly before leaving, we went through our usual “going out of town”checklist. We were right on schedule to make our dinner reservation at McMenamins Old St. Francis School. Buffet. Yum.

Note: I’ve been trying to be less helicopter-y, as I’ve mentioned before. So, with minimal intervention or assistance, I let the kids pack their own bags. I asked them, “did you pack _____?” etc. All answers were yes.

We start our little road trip, in our comfy travel clothes, which for the kids includes things like jean leggings and basketball shorts. All is well. Or so we thought.

Getting changed for our nice dinner, BOTH of the kids realize that NEITHER ONE OF THEM PACKED PANTS. Yep. That’s right. No pants. A four-day road trip without any pants, in 25 degree weather.

See? That’s the kind of stuff that only happens to us. Like the great car keys vs. the tree lot of 2008.

For some crazy reason, Girl Child had a random pair of nice leggings in the car already. We haven’t figured out how they got there or why, but at this point: whatever. Pants.

Which leaves Boy Child hanging out in second-hand basketball shorts.

I realize that we live in a pretty casual part of the country, but used basketball shorts at a nice Thanksgiving dinner is pushing it, even for Oregon.

So we race into the town where we are having our nearly-pantsless dinner and thankfully the Fred Meyer, which carries clothes, is still open, for another 20 minutes. For any time I complained about stores being open on Thanksgiving: consider me humbled.

The extra bonus? Black Friday pricing.

I’m shopping in the kid’s section and I get a text from SubHub: “Pick up a six-pack of beer while you’re there.”

Yes, friends, I wandered around the store looking for pants and beer on Thanksgiving. I can’t make this stuff up.

And yes, Boy Child wore the same pants all weekend long. Thursday through Sunday.

Can’t wait for Christmas and what wardrobe malfunctions might be awaiting us then.

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