Our niece Natalie, 4, came over to play the other day in an outfit she’d created herself. It wasn’t bad, but clearly she’d taken some time to carefully choose it.
Well, I have boys, and they don’t care about picking out their clothes, so I have lots more time to create little outfits for Toddler D, I thought to myself.
The next day, late for ECFE, I got out D’s favorite macaroni t-shirt . . . and a pair of overalls. The macaroni shirt went on great, but when I started with the overalls D started screaming, “Pants! Pants!”
Yes, darling, Mother is trying to put on your pants.
“Pants! Pants!” he wailed and made his way over to his pants drawer where he chose a pair of sweatpants and put them on happy as a clam.
Why is it so many moments of motherhood are fill with the excruciating pain of letting go combined with the extreme pride at our child’s independence?
And couldn’t I have had one more year of little overall outfits?