Jack's recent foray into the role of savvy fashionista coincides directly with daycare teaching all of the kids about colours and the rainbow. I slowly came to this realization as I created a pile of repeat offenders (rejected shirts that Jack has refused to wear for nearly a month) in the rainbow palette of navy blue, dark green, black and grey. Molly and Jack generally have their own clothes during the day now (mainly because Jack is significantly bigger than his sister), with the exception of most of the pyjamas we have available that are a free-for-all for either child. Essentially we just allow each toddler to select whatever they want for bed time so long as it fits and is seasonally appropriate. Jack's growing frustration over being able to wear bright purple Dora pyjamas at night and then being offered an army green shirt with a monster truck on it to wear during the day, something he isn't vaguely interested in, is understandable.
Jack at the batting cages last summer
Over the weekend Jack selected something of Molly's to wear in the morning: A pair of bright fuchsia pants (that were two sizes too small) and a mauve cardigan (also two sizes to small) with no shirt underneath, I let it slide. Molly gave me attitude for letting him do this, because he was wearing her clothes and she didn't want to share. Chris was unimpressed because I'd encouraged our son to dress like a cross between someone from the cast of Priscilla Queen of Desert and our own neighbourhood hooker*, especially once the boy had added in some Mardi Gras beads. I accused Chris of acting like a dad in a 1980's sitcom who was upset because his son wanted to wear pink or play with dolls and he countered by saying I was using my son to pursue a personal agenda by allowing him to wear something ridiculously ill fitting, something I would never allow Molly to wear. The truth of the matter was we were both right, and both wrong.
Within an hour Jack had smeared blueberry yogurt all over himself so I needed to get him into another outfit, no matter what my feminist ideals were telling me. He was a mess and needed to wear something else. He selected a bright green shirt and pair of jeans.
Molly at the batting cages
I arrived home from work the other night to a bag full of brightly coloured shirts from a variety of thrift and bargain stores, including a bright purple sweatshirt and bright purple dinosaur T-Shirt. As I showed Jack his pile of new clothing, Molly tried to make claim on everything grape coloured. I kept repeating that these were Jack's clothes...finally we compromised after she selected a bright blue shirt that said something "sassy" about being awesome that Jack was generally indifferent towards.
The more exposure I have to childrens clothing, the more annoyed I get. The selection is great if you are that little kid who loves monster trucks and tools, or bows, tiaras and frills: but that seems to be the majority of what's out there. Yesterday Jack told me he wanted a pink shirt to wear that wasn't Molly's, so back to the mall we go.
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*Welcome to the Junction West. Yes we have a neighbourhood hooker.
