Yesterday, I wore ironed pants. True, I did not put them on until 4:30pm and the only people that saw them were the milk man and a few other adult leaders at a youth church activity. So what if I only wore them for 3 hours before I was summoned home to feed a starving boy, who wouldn’t take a bottle from his poor dad and spit up on said pants minutes after I so kindly fed him. The fact of the matter is: yesterday I wore ironed pants and for a short period of time I felt quite sophisticated.