You would think that with my constant exposure to Neil I would know his lyrics by heart. About ten years ago I was at a house party and I had a bonding experience with a friend of a friend when we both admitted that we thought the song Forever in Blue Jeans was actually called For Reverend Bluejeans, A spirited song about a spiritual man who related well to the people. Upon further review of the of the lyrics the addition of holy man Bluejeans would make this song nonsensical.
A while ago I asked my sister why I had so many pristine pairs of girls jeans passed on for Molly in sizes two to four. She explained to me that during those years, both of her daughters hated jeans and refused to wear them, hence Molly's inheritance of a near-new denim collection. I laughed arrogantly, Molly wore jeans all the time.
For several mornings last week Molly hated everything in her wardrobe, especially her jeans. One morning in particular she screamed from the moment she woke up until she got into the doors at daycare because all of her leggings and jogging pants were dirty and she didn't want to wear her jeans. She'd stop crying for a minute or two where she would repeat, "I don't like it!" ten times and then return to her tears over the evil villain denim that had captured her legs. As we pulled up to the daycare, Chris turned to me and asked, "Remember when we couldn't wait for them to be able to talk to us, to tell us what was wrong?" I nodded. Apparently neither of us were anticipating the crazy-cray-cray that is toddler logic or how soul crushing bluejeans can be.
Wanting a piece of our morning sanity back, we went out this past weekend and purchased several pairs of leggings which Molly picked out herself (in pink, purple, turquoise and fuchsia). Sunday evening she picked out her clothes for the next morning, we read a story and she went to bed.
Monday morning she switched up her game. It turns out there is a new demon in town, his name is Leggings. Molly screamed endlessly about how she needed to wear jeans, not leggings. So I put her in jeans. Then she changed her mind: more tears. Finally I stuffed her into a pair of pink jogging pants (not leggings or jeans) and left her to serenade Chris while he got them in coats and I shovelled the front walk. As I worked in the cold, avoiding my crazy toddler I sang to myself softly:
But it don't sing and dance
And it don't walk
And long as I can have you
Here with me, I'd much rather be
For Reverend Bluejeans
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