One of my kids just had a growth spurt. With both babies and teens, it’s amazing how they can seem to change form when you look away for a mere moment. I’ve been helping him go through his wardrobe and purge those garments that no longer fit.

Though I often purchase almost every type of item—even fitted clothing—online, add to my list of pandemic anomalies not going to a shoe store to get a son’s feet measured when he’s obviously grown more than just one size. This fact was easier to miss than usual with everyone working remotely, wearing slippers more often than outerwear.

FYI: I was very successful using the printable sizing template from the Oregon company, Soft Star Shoes. The “elves” there make most of our leather slippers. My son ended up with new footwear from two different brands that fit well thanks to that tool.

As it happens, this child is considering a school with a more formal dress code for next year. Collared shirts, dress trousers or khakis, and leather shoes would be a daily requirement. Looking ahead to that possibility, I plan to replace some of his outgrown t-shirts with button front oxfords and a second pair of hiking sneakers with more formal brown or black shoes.

Fortunately, this is a kid who enjoys dressing up. He’s been a bow tie guy since he was little and has a nifty collection of them now mostly silk, but pre-tied. I haven’t had the heart to tell him yet that men wear a larger tie to suit their broader faces, and these will soon be outgrown, too.

Pro Travel Tip for Bow Tie Aficionados: a jumbo, hard-sided eyeglass case makes the perfect protective “suitcase” to keep spiffy pre-tied neckwear from being crushed in transit.

Just for fun, here’s a particularly sentimental bow tie of the skinny, Colonel Sanders variety that’s now in my son’s collection. It was my maternal grandfather’s originally, from the Oregon Centennial celebration in 1959, and we found it amongst my mother’s treasures when I emptied her closet after her death.

There was no dissent in the family about which of Mom’s grandsons would be most likely to wear this commemorative novelty neckwear! I don’t recall my grandfather ever wearing it in my presence, though he was a bolo tie guy when he would join us at church in my youth. Come to think of it, Grandpa rocked a bow tie on special occasions, too, so my kid is in good company.

My son prefers suspenders to belts with his suits, striking that distinctive old-school lawyer-in-the-courtroom pose as soon as he’s dressed à la Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch. As early as the elementary grades, he was sincerely delighted to receive clothes as gifts… if they were flashy items like a velvet blazer, a mini tuxedo, or a new fedora.

Suffice to say, this is a child who likes to wear clothes that garner attention. It’s a skill he developed well before learning to tie his own shoes.

It was in this context that I brought up clothes shopping over lunch with the kids. I was nagging them to sort through the shoes strewn about the mudroom, refusing to buy new boots for the one whose feet were getting wet in sneakers on every slushy February walk until this dull but necessary task was done.

With the outgrown ones underfoot, there was no room to put away new shoes. Also, someone will be grateful for hand-me-down boots in excellent condition. One side effect of growing so fast is that few items are worn out before they need a new home.

“I want to see everything that currently fits you before I start shopping for anything new,” I explained to my reluctant young assistant in the endeavor.

“I think I need to get you some more collared shirts, too,” I added to my sharp-dresser. “You might need them for school next year and it’s not like you can’t wear one instead of a t-shirt working from home this spring.”

His response?

“Collard shirts? Heck no, I want bok choi shirts!”

“Collard shirts? Heck, no, I want bok choi shirts!”

Amidst thunderous eye rolling, loss of my appetite, and a chorus of groans, DS₁ tried to flee the room, but I kinda sorta got them to agree to work on the clothing sorting project before anyone enjoyed any video games over the weekend.

And you got to enjoy my dear child’s most dreadful pun yet of the pandemic.

♦