My sister requested a photo of these pants. It's still unclear whether she wanted to see my handiwork or she was just fishing for evidence that my son does in fact wear pants on occasion. Either way, I did my best. He isn't exactly the most willing model:
For the record, I have officially been banned from using the word "cute" in reference to my son, by his father who hath hereby declared the word Not Very Manly. But how else does one describe the boy in this outfit? (Which in all fairness to K has had no such injunction placed upon it despite its being, at least in part, decidedly pink. Then again, he's color-blind, so maybe he hasn't noticed.)
Regardless, I am left with no choice but to pen some (really bad) poetry:
Father's worn-out shirt
Reborn as Asher's trousers...
Clambakes on the Cape?
I hope he's happy.
P.S. For instructions on how to make these easy pants out of a man's shirt, click here. I had to move the pocket, making my version slightly more complicated than the original, but, as with most of my projects, if I can do it, anyone can. The poetry, on the other hand...now *that* takes years of practice.
P.P.S. There's a reason he's so
cute lovable. Mere seconds after I took this picture, he pooped on my pillow. Rest assured, I won't be writing any poetry about *that*...