Holy T-shirts, Batman!

Sometimes autism bites. To be a bit more precise, it tears. Or rips. Or shreds. Take your pick.

Monkey Boy has gone through more t-shirts than the health care bill has pages. I’m beginning to think keeping him clothed is going to cost about as much! I’ve lost count of how many garments have fallen prey to the unbridled fury of Monkey Boy’s meltdowns.

Exhibit A:

The Phineas and Ferb t-shirt, brand new for this school year. He wore it once before it bit the dust. It’s probably the best-looking rag on the block now.

Exhibit B: The famed Animal t-shirt? No more. It came home from school yesterday with this big ol’ gash. So did the extra shirt packed in his backpack. (Ironically enough, that shirt said “I do all my own stunts.”  Don’t say we didn’t give you warning.) He got off the bus wearing whatever shirt the school had on hand. It had a hole in it, too.

You’ve seen enough. No use going through the rest of the gruesome evidence.

There has to be an upside to all this, right? They say when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Well, when Monkey Boy gives you torn up tees, you can:

• Use the material to make drapes to match the comforter he gnawed a hole in.
• Add a little rubber cement, a warped vinyl LP, and a busted badminton racquet and display your work as modern art. (It will distract your visitors from the other work of art your little Picasso left on the kitchen wall.)
• Tear them into little shreds and line your hamster cage.
• Market them on cable TV as the world’s first shirts with built-in air conditioning.
• Start a fashion trend. The I-just-wrestled-with-a-lawnmower look could be all the rage this season.
• Get out a needle and thread and try to repair the damage. (Has it come to that?!)

Of course, I could always go the practical route. Shopping, anyone?