Legalizing Trousers (a Novel in 3 parts)

Took Ben home this afternoon and talked about clothing. We have found out what costumes we'll be wearing for the school play, I get someone else's tracksuit bottoms and one of those sweatbands you wear on your head because I am a team trainer, and Ben gets to wear whatever he wants as he is an Ancient Greek Breakdancer. Come to think of it, you know that special sellotape that lady dancers wear to stop themselves gaping open at the chesticles, well he might have to do that with his Toga. We imagined our trousers falling down during the performance, and the effect it would have on the female members of the audience.
It's just not possible to have this kind of conversation (when you're 9) without soon getting onto brassieres, lava, nuclear missiles and helicopters, believe me.
Anyway, at home Ben and I spent a profitable afternoon spreading Lego over the bedroom floor and stealing choccy biccies and eating all 4 jellies.
Once he'd gone I was busy Minecrafting when Bud cut all 8 buttons off my trousers with a large knife. Jof detests these perfectly comfortable and valid trousers because of the buttony decoration, to which she is allergic, so she hides them at the back of the clothes drawer and I get them right back out again and use them and she has to turn them the right way out after laundering them so gets to touch those harmless buttons all over again. But now they're legal. Later I sat on a blueberry and fidgeted: it's amazing how much sofa you can purple-ify with one set of trousers. Jof says they are haunted by an evil spirit, polter-pantaloons?