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1-4 Yrs: The Buggy Blog - Dressed For Success
When I produced three boys I thought I'd be on easy street on the clothing front. No pink. No sequins. No fuss. And certainly with J I've got a boy who's utterly casual about his casuals, formals or sleepwear. He'll compliantly get dressed in whatever I present to him – scratchy school uniform, serviceable hand-me-downs or dodgy birthday jumpers. But am I doing him a disservice? Implying he couldn't give a toss about his togs is perhaps below the belt. He thinks his green baseball cap is just the bees' knees. He jumps at the chance to don a tie like daddy's (though the lustre'd soon wear off if he had to endure one every day). And he can’t get enough of fancy dress – fearsome (and usually hot) in a furry tiger costume, ridiculous but cute in a Thomas the Tank Engine suit and dressed to kill (only without the gun) as a cowboy.
And then there was the time I was required for a performance to dress him up as a holly bush (starring role it was not). He proudly decked himself out in boughs of the green stuff and despite looking frankly preposterous didn’t get in the slightest bit prickly about looking the fool. (W)holly Mr Nonchalant. B by contrast is much choosier about his attire. He’d hate to be in J's shoes as the amenable dress-me-in-whatever-you-like stooge. On the contrary, he’s got clear … and usually loud … views on what he will and absolutely will not wear. I'd like to see Trinny and Susanna tackle him on one of his outfit-blackballing days. 'No, not … strop … those trousers and top!' Instead, what he categorically MUST have is usually either in the wash, seriously outgrown or a faded old fave that I've secretly put out to pasture. And that's when it really hits the fan. Suggest his choice is off the menu and B soon shows his credentials as the original cross dresser, and I'm not talking about wearing skirts. Tetchy just doesn't cover it. This boy's so passionate about avoiding a personal fashion disaster that he'll fly off the handle in disgust if he deems my choice 'not very right'. Shouting, stamping, tears, the lot. Blimey, keep your shirt on B! After all it's the one you happily wore last week. And then there's S who takes a different approach. He's neither laid back nor particular about which clothes to wear. He seems instead to prefer no clothes at all. When I try dressing him he gets ants in his pants, wriggling and yelling as though I'm subjecting him to torture. He's developed a knack of sloughing off his trousers as he crawls around the house. And he works his cotton socks off in the art of losing them – don't you just love that 'look mummy, I'm only wearing one sock/shoe again' game? Is it because he'd genuinely be happiest in his birthday suit? Is he beginning a B-style wardrobe revolt? Or is it simply that the third child hand-me-downs are just too stretched and/or tatty to be seen in? Well, you're going to have to like it or lump it for now S. You see I can't be going out spending a fortune on new clothing for you. Having three boys I need to scrimp and save where I can. And if that means wearing thread-bare hand-me-downs then so be it. Because you see I may be saving a fortune on ballet slippers, hair clips and generally all things pink, but I'm bracing myself for worse to come. Football shirts. I confess to being utterly ignorant when it comes to football. But one thing I do know is that living within chanting distance of a Premiership stadium I'll soon get to know a lot more about football fast. Nearly as fast as my wallet will shrink when I'll be obliged to buy a new shirt that, to me, will be virtually indistinguishable from the previous season's. Ah, can't wait. In the meantime I guess I should encourage S in his tendency to naturism. At least it's cheap. |
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