You've been mooned

It’s been so long since I’ve routinely worn jeans that I can’t help but stand with my hands in my pockets sometimes. They’re so much more comfortable than the pocketless cotton slacks I used to wear to work, maybe because they represent freedom from the grind of the corporate world. In any case, it’s a pose Ladybug likes to mimic despite the fact that most of her pants don’t have pockets.

But the pink jeans she was wearing when we went for a walk this weekend did. It was one of those pairs that I lamented about before, a tad too long but not big enough around the waste. So I had buttoned them under her belly, just above her hips.

As we were walking around the block, Ladybug tried to put her hands in her pockets. They were in an awkward location, and she had to ram her fists to get them in. Down went her pants.

With her jeans gathered around her ankles, Ladybug waddled to me laughing. I pulled them back up, only for her to yank them back down again. I ended up carrying her the rest of the way, one hand on her waistband.

I forgot about that incident until this morning when Ladybug was playing in the living room while my husband and I talked on the sofa. All of a sudden she stood up, pulled down her pants and started wobbling around the room. As I looked closer at her purple pants, I discovered they, too, had pockets.

I suppose I ought to buy her a belt before someone else gets mooned.