“Those shorts are my age!” exclaimed four-year-old Patrick. “Those aren’t for you Carrie. Those are my age! Can I have them?”
A couple of weeks ago, Shawn and I were the proud temporary guardians of our friend Susan’s adorable son Patrick. (a.k.a. “cutest kid ever until I make one of my own”) He was having a slumber party at Uncle Shawn and Aunt Carrie’s house and he was excited. (and we were frightened)
Patrick proclaimed that he was in the mood for beans and rice (true Texan) so we headed over to ZoCalo for an early Friday night dinner. As fate would have it, about 10 T3 Teammates, including Coaches Pain and Mo, were ALSO having dinner at ZoCalo, so you can imagine the surprised look on their faces when the Barretts walked in with an unidentified pale child that could easily pass for their own. “We just told you we were going on vacation to Europe,” we joked. We made our usual illegitimate child jokes…cuz those are always funny…and the group ended up leaving shortly after we sat down, probably still wondering if this kid was indeed ours.
In typical horrific parenting style, I began to bargain with Patrick to finish his food so that we wouldn’t have to. “Hey Patrick, If you eat another cheese quesadilla, we’ll get ice cream!” Clearly the only person that wanted ice cream was ME. Frankly I didn’t care whether he ate his food or not, my ass was going to Amy’s Ice Cream regardless. It just sounded better if I was bribing him into wanting it.
Lo and behold, we headed to Amy’s and ran into Coaches Pain and Mo AGAIN who were also there indulging in a little extra caloric consumption! (FYI-Austin is a small town) They happened to have the new T3 Race Kits in their car so they gave me a pair of the new sweet Compression Tri-Shorts. I took them out of the bag and that’s when Patrick exclaimed that they were “his age!” They weren’t his size, but they were his age! He insisted on trying them on when we got home and got the biggest kick out of the built-in diaper inside. How do you explain to a four-year-old that the padding is there to protect your hoo-haa and not to capture pee if you have to go! Ummm…thank god he didn’t test that one!
Needless to say, he felt so proud when we slapped a medal around his neck! He felt like a real athlete and really REALLY wanted to take them home with him. I don’t know that he ever really understood that those tri shorts were supposed to fit Aunt Carrie. “But they’re my age,” he kept insisting.
Fast forward two weeks and I just got some race pics back from last week’s Marble Falls Tri. I’ll be damned if the little kid isn’t right. He looks waayyyy better in those shorts than I do. But hey, I’m wearing shorts that a four-year-old can wear. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or frightened.