No Shoes, No Shirt, No…
Recovering from the flu and not feeling up to making dinner, I took the kids to Jamba Juice. They were very excited.
I seated the children at the counter while we waited, and Asher took off his shoes. If you know Asher, you are not surprised that he took his shoes off at a Jamba Juice.
We got our drinks, and I managed to get the kids out of the very tall chairs and out the door with their respective cups. It wasn’t until we hit the sidewalk outside that I noticed that Asher was standing there, drinking his smoothie, barefoot.
In a rush to grab the shoes without leaving the kids overly unattended on the sidewalk, I kind of dodged past a man heading out of the store. He laughed when he saw me grab the shoes, and I said, “Don’t ask me how we managed to leave shoes at Jamba Juice.”
Laughing again, he said, “I understand completely.”
I half said, half muttered, “Really, if everyone still has their underwear on,* we’re money ahead.”
This was when Asher spoke up. “Actually I’m not wearing underwear! Just pants!”
*In our family, finding Asher’s cast-off underpants places like the backyard or the floor of a rock climbing gym is not unheard of. He doesn’t like underwear. Or socks. Or shoes. Or coats.