It was 1992, the year I would later be pregnant with my fourth child. The oldest, a girl, was at preschool, and I remember sitting on the floor at home with the boys. The elder of the two would be three in a few days, and he suddenly announced that he’d like to wear underwear.
Though toilet training was one of my least favorite obstacles as a parent, I was not caught off guard. After all, he was almost three and the suggestion had been made a number of times, with no interest on his part. Despite a drawer full of underpants, when he made the proclamation, I thought a celebratory trip to Target was in order.
I let him choose whatever style, color, and character he wanted. Not to be outdone, the younger boy decided he, too, wanted some. And if you’ve been a parent, you know — anyone showing interest gets underpants, ready or not. Before long, they had each chosen briefs depicting their favorite Power Rangers.
Once we were all buckled in the car, the older son began to forage through the bag. Finding his garments, he ripped into the plastic and tossed it aside. He held them firmly in his grip above his head. Leaning forward to his brother, and shaking them powerfully in the air, he exclaimed,
With these we can rule the world!
That was 25 years ago, and although they’ve outgrown their underpants, I think they’re still working on their world domination.
Peace . . .