"Mom," she calls down the hallway. Mom, toasty warm under her quilt sighs, "What?"
Mom relunctantly gets out of bed and walks down the hallway. "What?"
"There are too many shorts and no pants."
Mom rolls her eyes. "Don't blame me. Everytime I buy you pants, you complain. So no, you don't have many pants."
"It's too cold for shorts."
Tell Mom something she doesn't know. "What do you want me to do. You don't like any of the pants I buy you."
She tried on the red pants Mom bought her the other day, needing red pants for the Christmas parade. The length was good but Mom needs to bring in the waist. As she was trying them on, she complained.
"They only go up to here," she said, showing Mom how the pants go up to her waist.
Mom shook her head, "That's wear pants are suppose to go."
"No. I wear my pants here," she said trying to hoist the pants up to her belly button and succeeding in giving herself a wedgie.
Mom laughed, "Only old people wear their pants that high."
As Mom listens to her daughter's complaint this morning, she remembers she still has to sew the red pants for the parade. "I don't know what you want me to tell you. You don't like any pants I buy, so I stopped buying you pants."
"Where are my blue pants?"
Mom goes over to the closet, "Here."
"Oh they were hiding in all the other clothes."