Son, here's some steroids. Be big by Wednesday.

Well, Fran may have overestimated the size of our children.

That may be an understatement.

Most of the clothes she brought for the children (you noticed how I didn't use the word 'we'. I am now assigning all blame to my wife and washing my hands of the size gaffe) are a couple sizes too big. Not just roll-up-the-bottoms big, but take-in-the-sides, the-inseam, and-hope-the-dryer-shrinks-the-living-daylights-of-these-things big. 2T's must stand for 2 Terribly Huge.

Fran is also now deflecting blame -- in part -- on her mother, but that's unfair finger-pointing when her mother never held the children, never measured the children ...

Bad news is, they will look like little homeless children in their huge knapsack outerwear on the plane trip, drawing stares from others who see them ("What a shame for those children. Those parents spend all that money to fly here and adopt them, and look at that, they can't even afford them clothes that fit").

Good news. They will be able to wear these clothes until they are ... oh ... 25.

I have poked sufficient fun at my wife to ensure that she will make me do ALL the clothes shopping for the children in the future.