Forget the Fashion Police, Where's the Kids Size Police?

While folding Georgia’s laundry this week, I realized that her underwear is a size 2/3.

She's 7 years old.

The most pathetic part of this story is not that the size is so insanely off but that this has happened to me so many times over the years that I've lost count. I'd love a little help in this area, as there seems to be a lot for a mom and dad to keep track of.

We make sure that there's food in the refridgerator, the bills are paid, the kids have rides to soccer practice and that their shin guards are on, but wouldn't you think the children themselves could give us a heads up when their shorts don't fit?

I'd love some sort of a size police who serves busy parents with warnings when their children have outgrown the clothes in their closet. At least once a season, I'll have a knock-down drag-out fight with Ben where I beg him to wear something other than athletic pants to school. Like a well-choreographed dance, I tell him to wear jeans, he says they aren't comfortable, I tell him they most certainly are, he says he has gym… and so on.

When I put my foot down and insist that he do as I say – this doesn't happen often, as I rarely have the stamina at 7:45 a.m. on a weekday – he'll slink over to his pants drawer. After trying on five pairs of neatly folded jeans and khakis, he happily reports that none of them fit and he heads out in yet another pair of Puma athletic pants.

It happens a lot. Grrrr.

Or how about shoes? How many times have I had a child come limping home and complaining of a blister when I realize that their sneakers are two sizes too small? There's nothing like realizing that you've been foot-binding your kids and then having to resort to sending them to school in flip-flops during January, because they're the only things that “sorta fit.” Why don't they tell us before it's too late?

Of course, this can occasionally work in your favor. This winter, I was busier than I had been in a long time and when the snow fell in October, it was painfully obvious that Ben and Georgia would need new winter boots. Pronto. But then, no more snow fell and I patted myself on the back for my foresight and frugality. A warning to parents, though: don't try this at home. It's a rarity and almost never pays off. We just got lucky this year.

Although I have been saying for three weeks that I'll take the kids shopping for the staples – socks, underwear, flip-flops and Crocs – I still have yet to do it. Until I see a blister on a heel or visible ankles peeking out from between pants and shoes, I know I still have a little bit of time.

As for those toddler-sized under garments of my daughter's? While I fully intend on buying her some size 7s, there is a part of me that is intrigued to see how long we can hold out. Is that terrible?