Fatherhood of the Unraveling Pants

I put my pants on in the morning just like all non-nudists (or Donald-Duck-like cartoon characters)–one leg at a time. Except once my pants are on, I chase little people for 14 hours.

Donald Duck

Some say his temper stems from icy gusts of wind.

However, for a rare moment, my son was engrossed in reading/eating The Tale of Peter Rabbit and my daughter had her puppy-dog eyes in full force, shaking the five-shades-of-pink Lego bag as if to say, “Daddy, build me a Disney Princess castle so I can get my Godzilla on,” so I decided to seize the opportunity to actually sit, take a breather, and play with my daughter rather than chase whoever decided to go on the lam (as if I were Mary’s Little Lamb).

“Sure, Baby Girl. Let’s play Legos.”

But as I joined her on the floor, I overheard something sounding remarkably like the tearing of fabric and detected a cool draft in a discreet body location.

No, it can’t be, I thought. Sure, I’d put on a few pounds since my wife’s pregnancy, as happens with many men when their wives suddenly become less mobile, but I’m proud to say I only added two inches to my waistline, and now that the kids can literally run, constant Twin-herding is getting me back down to fighting weight.

Or so I thought.

Because staring up at me from my nether region was my most unfortunate wardrobe malfunction to date.

My Unraveling Pants

Maybe I've somehow gained weight in only that vicinity, rendering me literally too sexy for my pants.

My Unraveling Pants 2

Perhaps another fly could be inserted. (Introducing the Old Navy Utility Fly: 100% more fly than the leading competitor!)

Once the initial horror wore off, I realized this was a worn, older pair of jeans, with threadbare patches in several other places. In fact, I’d consciously chosen the ratty ones that morning since the Twins are getting over The Most Gnarly Stomach Bug I’ve Ever Seen, and the forecast was partly runny with a chance of digestive showers.

For a moment, I wasn’t even going to bother changing. I’m not leaving the house today, anyway.

I then noticed my daughter was pointing at the tear, which she often does now at the sight of out-of-the-ordinary phenomena. (Relax, O Hyperconservative Loyal Reader, I was wearing boxers. She didn’t see The Crown Jewels.)

“Yep, that’s right, Baby Girl,” I conceded. “Daddy made a hole in his pants. Don’t tell Mommy because she’ll bust on Daddy all night.”

But then the finger started moving.

Towards the hole.

I sprung to my feet, thus avoiding utter catastrophe. Yeah, I’d better go change.


You may also enjoy:

Sharing is Crying Adventures in Baby-Proofing: Part 1 - There Will Be Blood Born to Rock

If not, may you suffer an even more unfortunate wardrobe malfunction.


  1. Intricate Knot

    OMG. You hooked me with “Fatherhood of the Unraveling Pants” title and then kept me with the hilarity of your post. I laughed so hard my husband actually stopped watching his soccer game to see what was up. You had him laughing, too. You have style, sir.


      • peters154

        I have a Y membership, but find that sometimes i use it just to have a rest. I can’t imagine how worn out I’d be if I had twins. I’m sure that in the long run weight loss is good, but since I’m not working right now, I’m down to just two pairs of pants that fit me!


  2. joyfortheroad

    Reminds me of all the times Joshua head-butted Jon in the groin. How do you explain to a little kid still in diapers that they aren’t supposed to touch other people in the “diaper region”?!


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