He is undie obsessed, my boy.

He has a mean collection building.

Wiggles and Thomas duds, cutie little boy Y – fronts and some adorable boy legs on the way from oceans away.

(Okay, it might be my collection because, he looks so gorgeous in the teeny tiny skivvies and I am in love with my own son’s bottom)

Um, yeah, back to the point of the post…

You see, no undies means no preschool and he knows this.

The pressure is on.

He hasn’t had much luck so far,

there have been lots of misses and not many hits

but he can pick a pair of nickers from a mile away.

You know, Daddy wears undies, so he can go to preschool and Mummy can go, because, well, you know the drill.

So, when we went to the girls’ concert tonight and there were some of our indigenous brothers on stage in nothing but lap – laps, who could blame the little guy, when he yelled out, across the audience, in an incredibly quiet part in the show…

“Hey man! You got the undies on!”

Oh Captain Underpants, you make me laugh!