I don’t know how mornings go in your house, but around here we have a little routine. When the childling wakes up at an ungodly hour that I dare not speak aloud, he bellows one of three things that are guaranteed to make me fly out of bed like someone’s lit the sheets on fire:
I hurt myself!
I broke something!
I think I pooped!
He’s usually lying, but I’ve learned my lesson about ignoring anything that involves the word ‘poop‘. So at this point, I stumble blindly across the hall into his bedroom where I almost always find my clever little liar hiding beneath the covers on his bed. (And by hiding, I mean that he covers part of his face and none of his body, but he’s invisible.) When he emerges from his blanket cocoon, he eyes me warily and asks me why I’m not wearing pants. I ask him why he chose to woke up so early. He asks me where my glasses are. I ask him where he learned to tell time. He asks me to turn on Dora. I turn on Dora and stumble back out of his room and back to bed in the blind hope that I can get an extra fifteen seconds of sleep. (It never happens.) Day in, day out.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
So imagine my surprise today when he threw a little curveball into our routine.
Mama! My buttoms are unbuttomed!
I’ll be there in minute, kiddo.
But, Mama! Hurry! I need your help! My buuuuuttttttttttoms!
I thought I knew what he was talking about. For the last couple of days, Boo has chosen to sleep in his red unionsuit he got for Christmas and that thing has approximately 900 buttons.
Something about ripping apart all those little snappy things must be extremely satisfying for him, because I’ve fastened every single one of those fuckers about five or six times a night every night he has worn them. (A smarter woman would just insist that her child pick out a pair of pajamas without so many goddamn buttons.) (But I’ve never been accused of possessing an abundance of common sense.)
I fully expected that he had stealthily unbuttoned a couple of the top ones during the night and gotten tangled up, one arm in one arm out, like he has before.
Nope. I was wrong. So, so wrong.
Boo! (blink, blink) WHY ARE YOU NAKED?
I unbuttomed myself!
I can see that.
Mama, it’s cold!
I swear to God, he looked like a tiny, furless Burt Reynolds laying there, all reclined against against his stuffed animals. Since it was 7:00 in the goddamn morning, I just couldn’t find the humor in the situation. So I just sat down on on the futon with my head in my hands and told him to bring me his clothes. Then I rebuttoned every single button and sent him to tell Red what he had done. Red thought it was hilarious.
Maybe he’ll be a nudist when he grows up.
That’s not funny. Or natural. Those people have issues.
Come on, baby. It’s totally natural. It’s au natural.
God help me. If this kid decides he wants to prance around in public without clothes on, it ain’t my fault.