Oh Whoop Whoop. You are such a workout, my strong little boy.
Dressing you has never been…easy. But lately you have been taking it to the limits.
I’m tired of running around, chasing you, trying to catch you. I’m tired of you telling me that you’ll stand up to get dressed only to have you dash off again. I’m exhausted trying to hold you down for a diaper, a tshirt, some shorts.
I don’t bother getting
dressed myself until I’m done with you because I’m just going to be a hot, sweaty mess either way. Might as well do it in as little clothing as possible.
I’ve tried to play games, I’ve tried having you pick out your own clothes (you have no interest) or getting dressed yourself (you had an interest but no longer).
What you prefer is to go naked.
I get that, really I do. My mom said I was impossible to get dressed at this age and all I wanted to do was streak around naked. But we lived on a farm deep in the countryside, not smack in the middle of Manhattan with about 12,000 people within a 2 block radius of us at any given moment.
Going out naked is not really an option.
Little Dude, I would even let you go out in chonies (undies) if you were fully potty trained. I’m pretty sure I could convince you to put on clothes once we got downstairs. Maybe. Eh, maybe not.
And speaking of the potty….you are doing great! This past week you have suddenly developed an interest and you are rocking the pee pee on the potty. Go, you.
But now, all you want is to be naked and if I propose a diaper…you know, so we can get dressed and actually leave the house and go DO something–even when it’s something you really, really want to go–you go completely beserko at the suggestion of putting a diaper on.
You love the sandpit. You really want to go. And…you’ve informed me you’ll go in the sand naked and barefoot.
Ah, not in New York City you won’t. Sorry.
It’s because of Costa Rica, isn’t it? I embraced my inner hippy to the max and let you roam wild. You were naked as often as you wanted. On the beach, in the house, playing in the sand, yes–even riding in the bike seat. It was so easier to just let you pee in the wilds of nature (well, maybe not the house or the bike seat) than to fit you to get a diaper on.
And now that it’s warm out, you must be thinking “Hey, it’s warm! I get to go naked!”
That must be it.
We might have to just go back to Costa Rica, huh?
Any suggestions on how to get my (almost) 2.5 year old dressed and diapered? Oh, and he won’t wear anything with buttons. And sometimes he’ll throw a quite spectacular fit if I’m wearing a shirt with buttons.
Life is never boring around here.