I have a pair of skinny jeans, and I just realized I haven't seen them for a month. I searched my closet fairly well and they were not there. What a mystery!
By coincidence that night, I was helping Olivia pick out her clothes for school and I saw my jeans in her drawer. "Did you put these here?" I asked.
"Yeah, but they were in the pile of clean clothes Dad put on my bed," she answered. When folded, they pass for her skinny jeans.
Aha. I knew it. Since she was three, he's been getting her clothing mixed up with mine. Usually it's her panties. Every now and then it's her shirts, too.
I'm small, but there is no way I could have been mistaken for having Three Year Old Butt. And her undies used to have Disney princesses on them. Mine have Sanrio characters. Just kidding. Or not.
These days, his mistakes are more understandable since Olivia is nine. I'm five foot three and she's creeping up on me - it's her half-Scandinavian genes.
That, and I delusionally bought size small women's underwear recently and sadly had to give them to Olivia because after I washed them, they were too tight. (I blame the dryer.) So her stuff is really starting to look like mine.
But thinking Olivia would fit jeans clearly long enough for a short woman? Oh, Daddy. Silly Daddy.
We love him so, and he tries. I think we're going to have to take a tip from elementary school and label our belongings here at home, too.