And so it begins.

One day last week, I wore my pajamas to the bus stop like I always do.

Zachary and I were sitting in the car, waiting for the bus and suddenly he looked at me and exclaimed "Mama!  You forgot to change out of your pajamas!"

Now I'm not sure what was so different about today when I wore my pajamas versus all the other days I wore my pajamas, but on this ONE day, he noticed it.

When I didn't answer right away, he went on to say, "The people on the bus will see you in them."

I was slightly taken aback by this.

"Will it bother you if your friends see dressed like this?" I asked cautiously.

"Nah," he answered.  "But it might bother YOU!" Then he went back to fiddling with his backpack, and humming under his breath and tapping on the window and fidgeting in his seat.  You know, like a seven year old boy does.

Whew.  Crisis averted.

But it made me think.

If memory serves correctly, most teenagers are totally, mortifyingly, completely and utterly embarrassed by their parents.  I certainly remember feeling that way, and friends of mine who currently have teenagers have confirmed that it is certainly true.

But maybe it starts even earlier than that.  I would have guessed at 11 or 12 on the low end.

I might have just guessed wrong though.

If Zachary is already paying attention to and thinking about what other people may think, than the inevitable embarrassment can't be too far off.

The next morning when I rolled out of bed, I changed out of my pajamas and into my yoga pants so that I was appropriately dressed to take Zachary to the bus stop.

I'm going to stave this thing off as long as I can.

Even if it means wearing pants every day.

Now THAT is love.

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