I don't wear underwear

I took Luke shopping the other day to pick up a few clothes. Shopping with a boy is what I would imagine putting a diaper on a pig might be like. Clothes shopping with a boy - well, there really are no words to describe it.

He was picky about some of the shirts he wanted - or didn't want. But he also wanted to hurry and get himself out of the miserable-ness of it all.

"Can we go now?"
"Almost, you need underwear."
"Underwear?" he asks, almost mortified that his mother just said the word underwear.
"Yes, underwear. Please come over here and pick some out."

After carefully surveying the store to make sure there was no one within several miles that he might know, he went to the underwear aisle. With his mom.

Luke is at a funny stage. He's 8. Some of his underwear still have superheroes and Star Wars on them. But he is 8. He *might* be too old for that stuff. Maybe. He looks at the ones with pictures on them. Puts them back. Picks them up again. Puts them back. Finds some gray and black ones that are boxer briefs. He has never seen anything like that before.

"These are cool. I guess." and he puts them in the cart. Hides them actually, under other things I have in there. Thankfully we were at Target and we had the opportunity to have a cart - I shudder to think if his mom actually had to carry his underwear through the store. ha.

A few days later, we are in the car and the neighbor is with us. The neighbor GIRL. I hear him say, "Guess what? I don't wear underwear anymore."

"Luke!" I say as I almost wreck.

"I don't!" he answers me and a little quieter tells her, "Now I wear underwear pants!"

I guess this whole privacy thing is overrated anyway. Not to mention that they are technically underwear shorts, not pants. ha.