Poetry Friday: A Hand-me-down Poem

Happy Poetry Friday all! I was out shopping today, not Christmas shopping, although I have been doing that too lately of course. I was routine clothes shopping...for Nib. I thought naively that third time around I'd basically never have to buy anything kid-related. The thing I didn't think about is that even though clothes look fine the third time around they often still won't quite fill the roll. So, here I am with a big bag of new clothing items that need putting away and a poem about the experience to boot! Bonus.

There are certain things you just don't think about.

Hand-me-down Caveats

My third son is walking his toddler years
In his brother's shoes, and jeans and t-shirts
I have carefully stored them in clear plastic boxes
A virtual igloo of plenty teetering in the basement
There are labels with Sharpie size and season notes
And each item has been folded into it's cubic home.
I felt so proud and frugal pulling out his inheritance
Remembering each special romper set and tiny tie.
Now I watch him trying to climb the stairs in a pair of
Well-loved jeans, the ones his brother wore to the zoo.
And they slump to his knees with every step he takes
No amount of sentimental frugality can deny
The new knowledge I have that elastic waistbands,
Run through the dryer a few thousand times will quit
And hang slack: tired of covering a slew of diapers
And being yanked hurriedly on in cold winter mornings.
It is not as simple as making sure the knees are stain-free
And the message on the front not peeling off or cracked.
The zippers must still slide up and stay there without pins.
There must not be gum hiding in the pockets of jackets
And the elastic must be fresh and snappy, still up to the job
Of tightly hugging a wee chubby waist.