The Runs: not the way you think

I was walking the kids to school when Piet suddenly stopped in his tracks. He started pulling his pants down revealing an unpleasant brown stain, giving a whole new meaning to the term 'school runs'.

Hm, something told me yesterday's runs weren't over yet.

 
'Eeuwh!' he cried. 'I don't wanna wear my pants anymore, I don't wanna wear my pants anymore!'

No

I couldn't really blame him, but in the name of public decency I said in soothing tones: 'Never mind Piet. Just pull your pants up, and we'll go home and get you some clean ones.'
Piet thought about it for a minute, looked at his brown stain and then declared firmly: 'No!'

What to do?

There I was, with four children who had to be in school within the next ten minutes, on the sidewalk. Twelve years of motherhood have rendered me too weary to mind indecent exposure so I simply said: 'Jan, Teuntje en Ot, you three go to school, and I'll take Piet home.'

I tried one more: 'Piet, pull your pants up!' but even some giggling schoolgirls 'Ooh, look at that!' couldn't sway Piet to cover himself.

Shuffling home

So I took his little hand in mine and we shuffled home together, because with your pants around your ankles you can't take very big steps. I was dressed in my running clothes because I was planning to run straight from school into the world for a long run. But with a sick child a mother doesn't get very far.

'Oh well,' I said to myself: 'At least I got to experience Piets Runs.'

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