Kids are so weird.

So, the Tank has a favorite pair of pants, which happen to be shorts - stretchy, green and white striped shorts. He calls them "keerus pants." We don't know why. It sounds like the way he pronounces "Curious George," but the pants and the monkey do not appear to be related. As any parent of a toddler would advise, orders from speech therapists to "Speak to them like an adult" to the contrary, we quickly added "keerus pants" to our lexicon. Let's say, for example, a certain toddler is freaking out. And completely nude. And has eaten eight or more apples that day. Just imagine the possibilities. He hates all his clothes and scoffs at any suggestions from his well-meaning parents. Do you wait for the inevitable blow-out, all over your floor? Do you try to prove the point that you are right, that toddlers don't rule the house? As my sister-in-law says, "You can't negotiate with a terrorist."

"OOOOOH!" you screech over the screaming, fearful of the apples being digested in his tiny belly, a ticking time-bomb, "LET'S FIND YOUR KEERUS PANTS! DO YOU LIKE THEM? DO YOU LIKE YOUR KEERUS PANTS? KEERUS PAAAAAANTS! KEERUS PAAAAAAANTS!"

Your other children and your co-parent sense your desperation and chime in,

"YAY! KEERUS PANTS! KEERUS PANTS ARE AWESOME! KEERUS PAAAAAANTS! I WISH I HAD SOME KEERUS PANTS!"

And there is silence.

"I want my keerus pants," says the now calm toddler, who has forgotten his antics of mere moments before.

Unless the keerus pants are dirty (and if you have any sense of self-preservation, they are never so dirty they can't be resuscitated, quickly), you locate them and give him the damn pants, after attempting to put on a diaper without him noticing. Hint: Keep talking about "keerus pants" in a soothing voice. Thankfully, the Tank has not yet requested to wear them outside of the house. Perhaps he understands limits better than we thought.

In a strange twist, he appeared in the doorway of my room last night to tell me he was wearing his keerus pants. But he wasn't. His lower body was covered in a completely reasonable - cute, even - pair of plaid, flannel pants.

"Are those your keerus pants?" I asked, trying to mask my surprise, thrilled at the possibility of more than one pair.

"Yes," he responded, with the utmost sincerity, "Dese my keerus pants."

I avoided eye contact as I responded, "OK." I hid my glee; I couldn't wait to tell TF.

When TF arrived, after his busy, busy day, I grabbed his arm and draggeded him into the bedroom. Poor guy. For a moment, he looked excited at my urgency to get him into the bedroom. He was almost as happy to hear about the new development.

"You're kidding. Seriously? Those are the new keerus pants?"

"Yes. I do not know how this happened. Or why. But those are now his keerus pants."

TF needed confirmation, so he sought out the toddler, happily eating an apple and wearing his new, improved keerus pants.

"Hey! Are these your keerus pants?"

"No." He looked a little befuddled. "Dese not my keerus pants, Dad. I want my keerus pants!"

So. There you have it. The keerus pants aren't as bad as some toddler armor, like the Buzz Lightyear jumpsuit my nephew wore every day for what seemed like three years. His uncle nicknamed him "Scuzz Lightyear."

In other weird kid news, the X-Man returned from Sunday School with this.

According to him, they were to cut out a fish from "orange card stock" and paste pictures on it of people from the Old Testament and the New. The card stock, it would seem, was the most important element. I was asked several times if I knew what "card stock" was. I do, I guess, although it may have magical powers of which I am not aware, much like chicken balls. The glued-on people mattered less. In fact, he didn't even specify who was from the Old Testament and who was from the New. I think the dentist-looking guy must be New, but what do I know? The card stock is of excellent quality. But why is the fish angry? Or does he suffer from indigestion after eating that dentist and the guy in the toga? And what's up with the facial hair? Some things remain a mystery.

Namasté, y'all!