Sunday, September 20, 2009


I know I've already written about this, but life with a toddler and a kindergartener is not free of repetition, so my art shall imitate life. (oh, stop scoffing. I didn't make it Art with a capital A or anything...)

Monkey astounds me all the time with how vehemently he declares his likes and dislikes, and although these are sometimes changeable (for instance, last night he fell asleep while muttering over and over, "I love my daddy and I hate my mama. Mama is a bad mother bad mother bad mother. I love my daddy and I hate my mama..." but this morning he loved me again), one thing he does not change his mind about is fashion.

The child knows what he likes. And even more, he knows what he detests.

He's also very good at making it impossible to dress him in anything that falls into that last category.

Each morning when I help him dress himself (he will no longer allow us to dress him, which is unfortunate on the days when I am particularly rushed...), I have to offer a broad selection of clothing for him to choose from. Right now, he is not interested in any form of clothing for the lower half of his body that isn't "JEANS JEANS JEEEEEEEANS!", for instance. There are some shirts that, inexplicably to me, are completely unacceptable, even when the laundry situation is such that there are no other options. His Star Wars shirt and a T-shirt that proclaims him to be a "Noisy Little Monster" are two such shirts. I mean, I understand his reluctance to wear the monster shirt, especially because when he does, everyone reads it and laughs at him, but Star Wars??? Come on, kid.

Anyway. On to our latest vicious battle of wills disagreement.


He refuses to wear the diapers we bought, which are generic because as any parent knows, diapers are freaking expensive, and dude, if it doesn't give you a rash and it's on sale, that's what you are wearing.

He refuses to wear these diapers. Kicking, screaming, thrashing, wailing, hitting, biting--refuses.

As in, "WHAT? I cannot possibly wear those ugly ass diapers that have polka dots on them! I HATE POLKA DOTS. How could you even imagine that POLKA DOTS were an acceptable pattern for something as respectable as a diaper. How can I even take myself seriously in POLKA DOTS? Have I mentioned I HATE POLKA DOTS? Sure, Blues Clues was a bit demeaning, but I endured it (except the green ones. God, I hated wearing the green ones. I don't mind the pink, the purple, the yellow, and the orange Blues Clues but I have to draw the line somewhere, you know? And was just too much.) with only a modest amount of protesting. But this...this is an abomination. I will not wear them. I WILL NOT. YOU CANNOT MAKE ME."

And you know what? I can't, either. With all that kicking and thrashing and...undulating...I can't get the damn things on in any kind of manner that will actually accomplish the one thing it is meant to accomplish, which is NOT to make a fashion statement. And the one time I did get it on straight and fasten it up properly? He ripped it off in mere seconds.

Like, okay, you're almost three years old, child. Don't like your diapers? You can go on the potty. But seriously. You don't like your diaper because it has polka dots?

We battled. We tried to force him into wearing the damn diapers. No dice.

We bribed. We cajoled. We bargained. We made promises. We explained.

"Monkey, we don't have any other diapers. These are the kind that Daddy bought. When we get a different kind, you can wear those, but look, baby. WE HAVE NO OTHER DIAPERS."


And then.

"All right, Monkey, let's put on the diaper."

"I HATE POLKA DOTS!!! NO NO NONONONONONONO!" (kicking, thrashing, etc.)

"Oh. Well, good. These diapers don't have polka dots."

(stops thrashing) "They don't?"

"Nope. These have balloons. Without strings. Free balloons that float through the air and have dance parties all over the place."

"Oh. Okay."

Diaper success. For now.

1 comment:

Shana said...

Ha! I love it!

We need to get together, btw! I miss you.