*published Aug. 18, 2005
For those of you who've never taken a 12-year old boy shopping for clothes, let me describe it. Imagine that you go to the pet store and buy a 130-pound slug. Now put a leash on it and take it to the boys' department at Mervyn's.
What's that? It keeps trying to crawl to the exit? When you pull on the leash, it attaches itself to the floor with powerful suction?
Yes, that's exactly what shopping with a son is like. They don't want to look at clothes, or try anything on; they just want the right clothes to magically appear in their closet. And by "right" clothes, they mean clothes that let them blend in with their peers.
Recently, I took my son, Marcus, to buy shorts at Mervyn's. It began as an aerobic workout, as I spent the first half hour getting halfway down the aisle, then turning and walking back to Slug-Boy to try to get him to walk faster. Marcus silently trudged through the store, dragging his feet along the tile in slow motion.
I tried to interest him in the joy of buying new clothes, but after awhile, my encouragements became variations of "just pick out some shorts and we can go home." After a lot of pushing, pulling, verbal admonishments and general herding, I got him into the Boys department.
Moving through the racks of clothes, I searched for shorts that weren't too sporty or too formal. I also had to keep circling back to pick up Marcus, who was trying to stay on the main path without looking at anything or talking to me.
I found a rack full of beige and navy jean-type shorts and held a few candidates up for him to see.
"Nah," he replied to each one, with a slight shake of his head.
Picking up a pair of cargo shorts in a nondescript olive/gray color, I asked, "How about these?"
Shrugging his shoulders, he mumbled, "OK."
Hopeful, I found another pair of nondescript shorts with pockets in slightly different places. "How about these?" I offered.
Shaking his head again, Marcus mumbled, "Nah."
"Okay, these pants look just alike to me," I complained. "Why this pair and not that one?"
Shrugging again, he said, "I dunno. They're just different."
"Well, how about two pairs of the ones you like?"
Marcus looked at me as if I'd just asked why rain falls down. "Why would I need two of the same shorts?"
Only a boy would ask that question.
Sighing, I paid for the one pair of shorts he liked and we took "our" purchase home, where I took them out of the sack, removed the tags, and hung them up.
And voila! The right clothes had magically appeared in his closet.