Mornings in our house present a special challenge for me. Sure, there’s the usual battle to get teeth brushed or making sure breakfast is nutritiously appropriate while still getting everyone to eat. What really becomes a struggle is getting my youngest dressed.
First she goes into her closet and chooses a dress, never mind that we’re in the middle of winter and the dress doesn’t even have sleeves. Then when I remind her that it’s cold outside she returns to her closet and brings back tights. This is a little better and I tell her she can wear the dress with the tights if she also puts on a sweater. This is when things begin to deteriorate. She gives me all the reasons why this is not a good idea. She doesn’t want to cover up the dress, it’s too pretty.
Now I’m done playing games, so I go into her room. I ignore the piles of discarded clothing in front of the closet and begin making my own choices. And in my dilussional mind these are logical choices. I take out pants, a long sleeve shirt, sweatshirt, socks and finally boots. This is an outfit worthy of the cold weather outside. But when I present her with my choice, and don’t be mistaken, everything in my pile is shades of purple and pink, but when she sees my choices she screams “I’m not wearing that.”
Not wanting to deal with this new phase in our morning game, I walk out to let her calm down. Downstairs my son is finishing his juice, quietly ignoring the screaming. Meanwhile I assume my daughter is upstairs thinking long and hard about her actions and repenting for her treatment of me. Instead I hear “Mom, I’m ready.”
That’s when I look up to see my beautiful, charming, cuddly daughter, dressed in what can only be described as a homeless prima ballerina. She has kept the long sleeved shirt and added tights, a sweater, a coat, a beanie and a bright pink puffy tutu. To top it off she is wearing snow boots. “I am very warm mommy.” And she clomps down the stairs fully aware that she has won this battle.