Ok, I would like to know your opinion. But first, I want to write about saintly me.
My kid is pretty nearly perfect, with one exception: He has always been impossible about clothes. He even hated the clothes I picked out to take him home from the hospital in. I did not create a clothes monster. He was born that way.
Mostly, I am a go-along, get-along mom and acquiesce to Cole’s sense of style. For example, the school holiday concert this week required a pair of black pants, a white shirt and some dress shoes. I lost my mind and ordered Cole a white oxford shirt on sale at Lands’ End, which was only barely acceptable when it arrived and was tried on. Last Monday night—I put these things off as long as I can—we headed out to buy black pants for the music concert, which was set for Wednesday. Naturally, we could not find anything at the department store and ended up at Express, where Cole asked me to wait outside while he shopped. (It’s true the young salesgirls are a lot more helpful when the mother isn’t tagging along, so in the interest of getting it done I agreed to wait outside.)
While I was waiting, a bag of pink cotton candy caught my eye, so I forked over $4.00 for what turned out to be a very old bag of cotton candy and sat down on the floor not far from the Express store. (I knew if I wandered to the food court for a place to sit, I would be out of sight and out of mind.) Soon I was surrounded by small children with sharp teeth eyeing my cotton candy. Not sure what to do, I offered them some, which they greedily snatched from my hand, barely leaving my fingers intact before their parents could say no. (Hey, it was survival of the fittest and I was quicker than the parents.)
Eventually, Cole motioned me over to the store and showed me the pants he had decided on, the perfect white shirt that went with the perfect black pants and a tie that pulled the whole outfit together—and then one of those young salesgirls invited me to fork over my credit card. As we left the store, Cole congratulated me on being the mother of a snappy dresser. He then suckered me into buying him a pair of brown dress shoes with red laces and soles, and I learned brown shoes are now acceptable with black dress pants. I feel so hip.
Can we all agree that I am a saint? Thank you.
Pay attention. Here is my question: I have said NO with conviction to wearing pajama pants to school (note to my mother: SEE, I CAN SAY NO)—even pajama pants that don’t have an open fly (yep, this was used as an argument to sway me), and I have been told that I am the only parent in the whole world saying no to this particular request. Is this true? Really? Are all of the rest of you allowing your kids to head to school in sleepwear? I won’t judge you…much. I’m just curious. And yes, I know my house my rules, if Dwaine jumped off the Sears tower….just answer the question already. Thank you.
Odd Loves Company!
P.S. Cole informed me that his only part of the concert was to sing badabing….Sigh. I guess he peeked as the worm in third grade.
A few additional Links on the subject:
Wall Street Journal: Why Not Wear Pajamas all day?