Yesterday afternoon I left work early and picked up my son at school because we had to get to a Cub Scout meeting in the evening. As many of you read I had been feeling a little Thoreau-ish during the day, so I was happy to skip out early and get to hang with my kid for the evening. Being a Cub Scout leader is one of those activities that one minute I am complaining about the responsibility, the next minute I am loving it and feeling great about what I am doing for these boys. “Saving the world one kid at a time” I like to say.
Anyhow, about 5:00 p.m. he starts getting changed up. I had already thrown on my uniform but he was still in his school clothes, a pair of black pants and a striped long-sleeve t-shirt. Although these particular pants were now “school clothes”, they had originally been purchased early this past fall for a school play that he was performing in. They were a little dressier than the ripped jeans he is usually wearing, but already getting a little worn down from the wear and tear of a 10-year-old kid. As they were too long at the time they were purchased, and we were probably getting the whole play uniform assembled about one hour before the curtain was to open, my wife hemmed them up as best as either of us non-seamstresses is able… i.e. that means folding the whole extra length inward into the leg of the pant and hemming around the bottom so the excess wouldn’t fall back out. What that meant of course is every time he stuck his foot into the pant leg it would get all caught up in the extra fabric inside and he would complain about wearing these pants.
So, here we are getting ready for our meeting. I handed him his scout shirt to put on and asked if he wanted to wear the black pants or just throw on a pair of jeans instead.
HIM: “I’ll wear these (the black ones), they’re okay now, they’re hillbilly pants.”
ME: (laughing) “What? They’re hillbilly pants?”
HIM: “Yeah, Mom cut all the extra fabric out of them and now they have extra strings and stuff hanging out around the bottoms so they’re heeel…beeely pants!”
I’m not quite sure what to think about this… not only him using one of my favorite “country” words, but about him being excited about wearing what he so proudly called heeel…beeely pants.
I just know I love that kid… he dun make me happier than a coon dog on a bare leg!
But I think this country livin’ might be gettin’ to him!