This morning Misty slept in, leaving me in charge of Eli. At some point we had been up long enough that even I realized it was time for Eli to change out of his dinosaur pyjamas and into something more suited for the daytime, like his dinosaur shirt. “Let’s go change!” I told him.
When I opened his closet, Eli said, “I wanna blue shirt.” I pulled out his blue WHOI shirt, a perennial favorite. “No, I wanna blue shirt.” I pulled out the next blue shirt. “No, daddy, I wanna blue shirt.” It was like playing a text adventure with bad disambiguation. “Which shirt do you want?” I asked Eli. “The blue shirt, the blue shirt, the blue shirt, or the blue shirt?” I finally found the exact blue shirt he wanted: the one with lizards and frogs on it. I added a dark brown pair of shorts and voilà! A perfect summer ensemble.
Eli went to play in the living room while I went in the kitchen to empty the dishwasher. A few minutes later I heard an anguished cry. “Daddy, my pants!” I ran back to the living room. His brown shorts were standing up on their own, completely toddler-free. My pantsless son sat behind them, staring, sad trembly lip in full force.
The good news is that, since we live in Alabama, it’s okay if he runs around in only a diaper.