The Wrong Trousers (and t-shirt and hat)

While staying with family in England recently, it was decided that we would visit a lovely National Trust gardens where a regular troupe of traditional musicians promised to regale us with Northumberland’s jolliest tunes. It was a lovely afternoon. Picnic on the lawn, ice creams, hide and seek among the flower gardens and only one temper tantrum.

Hearing the strains of a jaunty melody, we made our way over to the music where the Smallest Boy immediately got down to the funky beat of harmonica, accordion and bag pipes. “Ahh, how cute”, we and many others commented, and I grabbed the camera to snap a few photos.

It was only then, looking at him through the camera lens, that I realised I had made a very large mummy fashion faux-pas. My poor child was dressed, nay festooned, from head-to-toe in Bob. Trousers, t-shirt, jacket and cap - all splattered with multi-coloured images of Bob, Scoop, Dizzy, Muck and just about as much Project Build-It as you can fit onto a small child.

He looked like a toddling Bob equivalent of a Burberry-clad chav!

As the musicians played on, he gaily danced away and I could see other mothers nudging their husband’s knees and muttering under their breath. I just know they were pitying the poor child for having a mother with such dreadful fashion sense.

I must clarify that I had not purchased such a heinous ensemble intentionally. This was simply a case of second hand syndrome - everything having been worn by my first child at various stages which had now unwittingly been put on the unfortunate second child all at the same time.

Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

I am reaching for my Boden catalogue as I type. Only the finest thread count polo shirt and vintage jeans can ever make up for this dreadful event.

The Wrong Trousers (and t-shirt and hat)