The Boy was not pleased with this development. The first time I walked into the dressing room holding a pair of pants with "Husky" on the label, he eyed them suspiciously. What does Husky mean? he asked.
It means you're solid, replied husband.
Yeah...solid blubber! The Boy said, with a sadly dejected air.
By the middle of fourth grade, we had moved past the boy's department altogether, and had to restock his wardrobe from the Men's section. Although he was pleased at not being a husky any more, I was a bit concerned that this was more than a phase.
I shouldn't have worried. Suddenly, about two weeks ago, his pants started getting droopy. Husband was constantly nagging him to wear a belt, because the waistband of The Boy's underwear was forever peeking above his shorts.
Then, on Sunday, the phone rang and I heard The Boy running to answer it. It sounded like this:
thump thump thump THUH-THUMP
Thinking he had tripped over the dog, I ran into the living room, to find The Boy sprawled across the tile, with his shorts around his ankles.
Yup. He's lost so much weight that he literally ran out of his pants.