The Spare Pair

I've learned that it's always good to have a spare.

I'm glad that I had a spare mailbox key because the original one made its way into the 1/8th of an inch crevice in the glove box when I threw it in after getting the mail one day. As did the spare of the spare before I realized that there even was a crevice in the glove box. So, both keys are sitting in some inaccessable hole in my glove box until I can find the right tool to take the glove box apart and get them. So I now have a key that is a spare of a spare of a spare.

Spare tires are always a good thing to have too. Except for the one that is hanging around my abdominal area. I could do without that one. But, I do like the fact that the spare tire for our SUV is actually the size of a real tire.

Spare change is good for those times you are standing at the checkout with two 44 ouncers and realize you forgot your wallet. Because then you have to drive 7 miles back home to get your wallet and drive back another 7 miles to the Quik Trip and with gas prices the way they are......you end up paying $100.00 for a fountain drink.

Getting three kids ready plus yourself for, say, a Doctor's appointment and actually arriving with a few minutes to spare? That's good too.

A spare child or two is nice as well. And no, I don't mean it in the "William and Harry- the Heir and a spare" kind of way either. I mean, when you're bathing the baby and you forget a towel, your spare, or "extra help", can go fetch you one.

My three year old is pretty much potty trained. He has had an accident or two on very rare occassions usually when he is at a friend's house and mistimes getting to the bathroom. To avoid embarrassment on both of our parts, I usually give his friend's mom a ziploc bag with a spare pair of underwear and pants. Just in case. You never know.

Which brings me to my point.

I was on the phone with my husband the other day. He had just returned from lunch and mentioned to me that a co-worker informed him that he had a tear in the back of his pants. My husband realized the extent of the tear while he was talking to me. He kept repeating, "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!" I sensed it was more than just a split seam. I wondered if the miscellaneous junk that he carries on his person every day finally deteriorated his back left pocket.

It wasn't until he mumbled something about duct tape that I realized I underestimated his predicament.

He called again about an hour later informing me that he was coming home. I guess the duct tape didn't work as well as he thought it would. I had to admit, it was pretty impressive. So much so, that the first thing out of my mouth was not, "Oh, let me mend it for you" but rather, "Wait! Don't take them off yet! I want to get a picture so that I can blog it!"

And not only do I have the urge to blog about it, but I can't help but write a little poem too.

At first, you went to lunch
Blissfully unaware.
Then you noticed people staring.
And realized it was your co-worker's glare.

"What's that?" One said.
"That right there?
In your brand new khakis
I think I see a tear."

You must be thinking,
About how rare
To have a tear
In your brand new pair.

The duct tape didn't work so well
Although it added flare.
But I'm sure you didn't want people to see
Your bare little derriere.

So you left the building
With moves like Astair
In hopes that no one would notice
Your newly made repair.

And when you arrived home
Your wife with loving care
Took a bunch of pictures
To blog about and share.

Now that I got that out of my system:

I'll try and spare you from having to see too much.

I think tomorrow, I'll send him to work with a ziploc bag and a spare pair of pants he can keep in the car. I'll make sure the spare pair doesn't have a tear. It might spare him from embarassment in the future should something like this happen again.

Just in case. You never know.