‘Dude,’ I said. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m putting on my shirts,’ he said. ‘I’m going to put on 100.’
This is Jon. 100 shirts. We have 42 seconds to get into the vehicle and drive to school and Jon is on a mission to put on 100 shirts.
He stood in his closet, pile of shirts, on hangers, in hand.
This, while already wearing a fat bunch of t-shirts. He looked like a miniature football player, padded thick, ready to roll down any hill with just a little tap. He’d roll, only slowed by his forearms that stuck out like little toothpicks.
I told him to raise those little arms. Then I took the shirts off, the ones he was already wearing, one by one. I pulled them up over his head, over his raised arms, and tossed them on the floor.
When I got to the 12th, I left it on.
My boy had 12 t- shirts on.
‘Why?’ I said.
‘It’s our 100th day at school. Our teacher said we had to wear something to do with 100. So I thought I’d wear 100 shirts.’
‘Oh,’ I said. I thought about it. Jon has too many shirts. But he’d never make it to 100.
When I got Jon down to one shirt, I got a roll of duct tape. ‘Stand still,’ I said. I unrolled the tape, tore strips of various lengths with my teeth, and then stuck the numerals 1-0-0 on the front of Jon’s lone t-shirt. Then I patted his chest several times for good measure.
Never underestimate the power that duct tape from Canada can have over a little boy in Africa who will soon be giving away some shirts.