I Used To Be Cool

I think I have officially become a style-cramper in the eyes of my kids.  And all of their friends. 

They all had this idea to dress in those black morph suits for Halloween.   I posted this pic last week of Dracen wearing his the day it came in the mail...

'They' were three sets of two brothers. That's a total of six boys, just in case you're worse at math than I am, strutting around town in those suits though they did have shorts and hoodies over them. Charlie said they looked like a little gang of aliens. 

My problem was mostly Dracen or more specifically, the fact that he is only nine years old and all of them are older...high school and middle school age.  

He has always been the little one trying to keep up running with the big dogs, bless his heart. And I don't want to hold him back and "ruin his life" (his words), I really don't. I just find it hard to place his care and well-being into the hands of five adolescent boys.  Last time I checked they weren't known for their good judgment.

We pulled up at the meeting place (grocery store parking lot) and let them out.  The other parents left.  I couldn't do it. No way.  Not happening.  So in lieu of forcing Dracen to walk with the style- cramping old people, aka me and Charlie, and in an attempt to prevent the beginning stages of his meltdown from going full blown, we kept our distance and stalked them like ninja spies. Only problem was, we weren't wearing disguises.  

I should have thought ahead but I opted to wear a hat which put a halt on my mask with the head feathers, which they were more than relieved I did not wear after I came home from Target last week, put it on my face and announced I'd be wearing it for Halloween.  "Mom, no!  Please don't!"  Whatever.  I thought it was cool.  

I think Charlie was rather embarrassed for them (and possibly himself) but that was the last of my worries.  My main worry was the fact that my boots were beginning to make me want to string together all the cuss words I know.  I've worn those boots many times and they've always been my friends.  Funny how you think you know a pair of boots but you really don't discover their true colors until you've stalked a pack of aliens all over town in them.   

Now I know how the Paparazzi feel.  I'll bet they opt for sensible walking shoes. I, however, (unlike the Paparazzi) did not have my sensible walking shoes nor my big camera.  I apparently still have a little cool left in me since I opted to leave that in the car.  Pfft.

Only thing I had was an iPhone in my pocket but they were moving entirely too fast for me (in more ways than one!).  This blurry shot from the other side of the street was the best I got before it was completely dark and all hope was lost...

Eventually they broke free of us but I worried myself sick and half to death before having Charlie break down and contact one of them via text.  There was, in the end, another near meltdown from Dracen so we gave him until 8:30 and the older boys closed it down.  

I'm not sure I'll survive when they start driving.  We've already talked about putting GPS tracking devices like Charlie has on his work vans, in their vehicles.  It will happen.  

Because I'm a style-cramper...

and I know it.