This Ain't No Disco

The GFYO was invited to a bigger kids birthday party with his sisters. This, I think, has been the highlight of his summer. The whales? They were alright. The Red Sox? Cool. A week at the beach with jellyfish and seals? Not bad. But THIS? A chance to not be left behind like usual, to actually GO to the party?

Funny thing is, he didn't want a party of his own when he was two or when he was three. When he was four, he finally obliged and said "if I must" and then? Well, wonders of wonders: who knew cake and balloons and presents could be so amazing! And now he's downright obsessed with parties. Wants to go to one every day. Thinks every bill that slides through the mail slot is a potential invitation. Dreams about parties. Has become a party animal.

So, when I sent everyone to get changed (not into dresses or anything; I was just looking for clothes that didn't have yogurt stains on them), he attacked the challenge with a motivation I rarely see. About three minutes later the girls had arrived, all presentable-like. About 15 minutes later, the GFYO walked every so delicately down the grand staircase stairs to make his debut.

I think he was going for this look:


But he missed the mark.

Because madras button down + camo cargo pants (in corduroy no less, since it was 80 degrees) + a track suit kind of jacket + red Crocs?

I give it an A for effort GFYO, you dapper little dude, but the hair flip you just performed? That might be a little overkill.