This morning is Tuesday, which means that in a couple of hours Ethan and I will be joining Erica and Christian for a round at the local children's gym. Usually when I instruct Mr. Ethan to get ready for the day, I hear some inaudible moans, and then my child will most likely throw his entire body on the floor to show just how "tired" he has suddenly become. This morning, however, all I had to do was mention the name of his very favorite cousin, and he was up the stairs in a flash.
"Be sure to put on something nice!"
While I call out this second command, I realize that laundry hasn't been done in some time and that he might have a difficult time finding something that is "nice" to wear. Him and I have a slight difference of opinion when it comes to "nice" clothing choices, so I wait. I check emails for a while and then he walks in--proud as can be.
"Don't I look great?"
And the obnoxious little voice inside of me rears its ugly head...Oh no, not that shirt again! With those shorts that fit him like a glove!? And those shoes! Why does he always wear those dirty old Transformers shoes that look about 3 years old?
Pause. Think.
What does it matter that I wouldn't pick out these particular clothes? Is it his fault that I leave all his old clothes in his closet and drawers, waiting to be pulled out when his mommy tells him to get dressed? He's still beautiful, small clothing and all. He's still my sweet boy--regardless of what's on his back...just look at the heart he drew for me. So what if he's not dressed like he just came from a GAP photo shoot?
This is one battle I can stand to lose.
"Of course you do. You look wonderful, Baby."
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