So what is it about mothers and staples?

So what is it about mothers, that when they discover that their ingenious, highly practical children have decided to skip the time consuming (and therefore inherently less practical) process of hemming their trousers "properly" and instead go the instantaneous and highly practical route of grabbing the nearest hand held stapler for a two-second pants shortening ... they go bezerk? They give you the you-didn't!-did-you?? smirk/glare, suddenly take on a horrifically embarrassed/apologetic role if anyone outside of the family happens to be around (as if such ingenious is somehow reflective of them!) and they quickly take your pants out of your hands only to run off and ever so kindly hem them "properly".

I think the first time I observed this phenomenon was when my younger brother had his pants stapled ... and somehow ended up at the hospital getting x-rays taken. X-ray + metal staples + questioning lab technicians = sheepishly embarrassed/apologetic mother. Daughter, however finds this strategy quite ingenious, having upgraded from duck tape to staples and continuing to prefer this tactic to"real" hemming even at the ripe old age of 25. I mean, really, how else can your pants be the perfect length whether you are wearing them with heels, tennis shoes or flip flops? We're talking versatility, adaptability AND convenience here, folks.

Enter Marcel, assigned to dress as a bit of a preppy geek as auctioneer for his sister's birthday charity auction. What does Yours Truly advise? Of course! A preppy geek auctioneer MUST have geeky short pants and no way better to arrange that than with your trusty ol' hand held stapler. Party was fun; auction was a success; short pants were definitely geeky; short, geeky, stapled pants lie to rest for weeks thereafter on the back of the chair in the kitchen.

So now, what happens when loving mother finds a pair of stapled pants lying on the back of a kitchen chair at her son's apartment? She does what every mother apparently does at the sight of a staple hem ... she gets the "I-can't-believe-you-did-this!!" smirk and eye roll, silently dies of embarrassment and takes them away for a "proper" hemming" while son is away for work ...

... And as son returns home to find the lovingly hemmed-to-Singer-perfection folded perfectly on the table, he thanks his lucky stars for wonderful mothers ... and for the fact that his new found high waders were not borne of a favorite pair of jeans!