The Pants Wars

"Mommy, C's not wearing pants." This has become less of a verse and more of a chorus in our house lately, a chorus that repeats more often than that Justin Bieber one you can't seem to get out of your head.

I'm not quite sure when my son's deep disapproval of diapers and denim began. Perhaps it was the first time he realized that a buff bum was immediate removal from the crib at nap time by a panicked mommy, who had visions of potty and even, poop, being tossed about the room. Not that I'm squeamish, but it's tough enough to keep just a "neat" home with two five-and-under sweethearts without the added help of nap time antics. Maybe he just likes the free feeling of not having elastic constrict his cute toddler tummy. Whatever the reason, C does not like to wear pants, or shorts, or pajamas, or anything really.

And if chasing my son throught the living room with a pair of pants in hand, trying to re-diaper him before he can leave anymore gifts on the floor isn't bad enough at home, now the ritual has become public. While shopping with my sweet baby boy one morning, I am looking through dresses when I hear someone politely say, "Ma'am, he's taken off his pants." I look down in the buggy just in time to see C unstrapping his diaper. I smile sheepishly, mumble, "thank you," then redress my son. "You must wear pants in public, buddy."

"Why, mommy?"

"Because."

That's the best I can do at the moment. I've since come up with elaborate explanations as to why we need pants from because mommy says you must to we've worn pants since the fall of man in the Garden, Little Buddy. Apparently none of these are good enough for my sweet boy because when he woke just this morning, his sister ran in his room at the first sound of his little voice and sang the chorus that has grown so familiar in our home, "Mommy, C's not wearing any pants!"