Disclaimer: Those of you reading who don't have children or who don't remember, should know that 3 year olds can obsess about things.
I am lucky enough to have a friend who works for a major children's clothing company. Two times a year, she is able to buy children's clothing at sample sale prices. So I always have some clothing stashed aside for gifts. Last week, Asher's friend Mirabel (age 3) came over with her mom and her baby brother I thought it would be fun to give them some cute clothes. I gave Will a baby boy outfit for 3-6 months. And since big sisters sometimes get left out when a new baby is around, I asked Mirabel if she wanted to pick out some tights. She did.
Asher, Mirabel and I trotted upstairs to look for the tights. I did not realize (I should have) that Asher would want some tights also. Mirabel chose pink with purple polka dots. That left the flowered pair with pink, purple and turquoise stripes for Asher. He seemed pleased.
Lets put them on right away " Asher begged. So Mirabel and Asher put on their tights.
"Look!" Asher exclaimed, "I can dance in my tights. I can spin on the floor like this."Asher ran around the house in his tights for the rest of that day. He had me thinking. Girls have it better. Look at all the fun stuff they can wear. The only time a boy is allowed to wear tights is if he is an actor in a Shakespearean play or maybe Peter Pan. Both seemed unlikely in the near future.
I figured he would forget about the tights the next day.
He did not.
"Where are my tights?" he asked the next morning.
"Oh, in the wash" I answered casually, trying desperately to downplay the tights. I don't mind if he wears them around the house, but I could not figure out a practical outfit suitable for preschool that included the tights. A friend suggested he could wear them under his jeans, but I did not think Asher would go for the layered effect.
The tights got put away and Asher forgot about them for a few days. Then one day after preschool I lifted Asher up to the changing table to change his slightly-peed-in underwear for the zillionth time, when something pink and purple in the underwear drawer caught his eye. "My tights!" he screamed, and then hugged them as you might when meeting a long-lost friend who has come home from the war.
Later, Asher wanted to know,"Can I wear them to sleep?" Daddy said okay, and Asher went to sleep happily that night. After Asher had been asleep for a while I went in to check on him and he seemed kind of hot and sweaty. The tights are much thicker than his regular pajama bottoms so I thought, "He won't notice if I put the matching pajama bottom on while he is asleep" I slowly and carefully peeled off the tights, put on his pajama bottoms and then cut his toenails while he slept. (See previous post about how difficult it can be to cut Asher's toenails)
The next morning Asher woke up at 6:20am and demanded to know "Where are my tights?"
Daddy swiftly helped him get them back on. We still had a couple of hours before he needed to go to school, so Asher was allowed to wear the tights all morning. He spent most of the morning spinning and dancing and admiring his tights in the mirror.
I know what you are thinking and my friend Liz already put words to it, "I think your son is gay," she told me matter-of-factly one day. And at the time I thought of a quote from my aunt Judy, "I don't mind if my son turns out to be gay," she said "I always need a good hairdresser."
The next day after school Asher wanted to know if he could wear his tights again. We put them on and played with toys, read books and then decided to play with play dough. By now Asher was getting tired, and when he gets tired my job as a mother becomes exponentially more difficult. Suddenly, Asher felt that pulling tiny pieces off the big red ball of play-dough and then dropping those tiny pieces on the floor was a necessary factor in keeping the world spinning.
"Lets pick up the play dough together, I suggested. All my discipline techniques are more difficult to enforce when Asher gets tired. "No, you can do it, " Asher assured me.
"We need to do it together" I reminded him.
"I can't do it! The pieces are too small!" Asher whined, and then threw himself on the floor crying.
He was able to help bring the pieces I picked up over to the trash. And he was able to find the energy to dance around the kitchen once more. Until......................
"What is on here? On the foot part of my tights?" Asher questioned. I observed a flat red dot on the bottom of his tights and immediately flashed to an image of a flat pink dot (of silly putty) that is permanently on the bottom of my favorite pair of white socks. I have tried washing, scrubbing, and peeling that dot away and I have tried stain remover but the small pink dot remains.
Was this the fate of the tights?
"My tights are Diiihurhurty, " Asher cried and once again fell to the floor in dismay. I scooped him up and got them ready for bed.
"Will you wash them?" Asher asked.
"I live to be your slave," I thought sarcastically. Can you think sarcastically?
"Yes, I will wash them!" I said trying to sound optimistic.
"Will the dirty part come off?" Asher wanted to know.
"Of course!" I promised without really knowing.
My mind raced. Distract. Offer something more exciting. A stuffed animal he forgot about. A bath toy. Or...........................bubbles!!!
What movie was it where one of the Italian Mob type characters says, "I never knew kids could get so excited about bubbles."
Well it is true. And for now, there is something more exciting than the pink and purple tights.
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