Cleaned Up

My mom (and dad) usually buy my boys their Easter clothes. Oh, who am I kidding, my mom (and dad) usually buy my boys about 90% of their wardrobes. Finding good deals and collecting things throughout the year, my parents typically bestow a big box of clothing upon my sons for their birthdays and Christmas. While the box may not be the boys' favorite gift, it just might be mine. Anyway. When they were here last, my mom and I went shopping. She said she'd buy them their Easter outfits and The Rock Star's one request was that he wanted a tie.

When I set their outfits out on Saturday night, Garrett looked with wonder at the smaller of the sets. "Matthew also gets to wear a tie?" He asked with excitement.

And I'm not going to lie to you, my boys clean up really well. Troy might not have any daughters but I'm going to have to buy a shot gun just to keep the ladies away. Sure, I have sons. Sure, they'll grow up and only think of one thing. (I can barely even type that sentence without breaking into a cold sweat, by the way. To think of my babies under the unfortunate effects of testosterone is almost more than this mama can handle.) Sure, they'll get *gulp* arm pit hair and facial hair and then they'll leave me but not before I point my proverbial shot gun at some unsuspecting female piranha.

Because when they clean up, they look like this...

And they're off limits, girls. Consider yourselves warned.

And I will consider the fact that all of us look a little better when we're cleaned up.