Wardrobe malfunction

On Monday, Julie and I took the kids to daycare so we could live a day in the throes of childless debauchery, a spiral of destructive, overindulgent behavior glorified by the dumbest rappers.  I'm pretty sure Lorde's writing a song about us as we speak.  It's called "Ceiling Fan Shopping in the Suburbs."

Later, we picked up the kids and found Rowan in the midst of a significant wardrobe malfunction.

"Nice legs, buddy."

"Yeah.  I don't have any pants on."

"Indeed."

"Yeah.  I peed on dem at nap time."

"Got it."

A teacher walked over.  "He just woke up.  And he doesn't have any backup pants in his locker, so I was about to put him in these."

Light purple fleece girl pants.  I did not smack them out of her hand, but I thought about it.  See, here's how they sent him home a couple months ago:

Look again at the photo.  Those are capris.

"So, the light purple fleece girl pants are the only option in the communal pants box?"

"Yep."

I glanced at Julie, who then uttered a five-word day-saver.  "What about his snow pants?"

Brilliant.