Back to school is a terrible time for Mark -- because it really means back to school uniforms. For a kid who loves expressing himself through clothes, there could be no fate worse than being forced to dress like everyone else.
I thought he'd eventually realize this is a battle he can't win, and is therefore not worth fighting. It's not the first (or last) time I've been wrong.
Today's clothing battle was over socks. I'm in the camp that firmly believe socks are best when clean; Mark is in the opposing camp. Kathleen recently bought him a new pair of Tony Hawk socks that he loved so much, he wore them three days in a row. Straight. Without washing. And argued indignantly when I ordered them into the hamper. (And cried, "Ewwww, my feet STINK!" when he finally peeled them off.)
He informed me today that he had two different socks on.
"They don't match?" I asked him.
"Nope," he answered. "They never match. In fact, that word isn't even in my vocabulary."
I smiled and agreed. "Well, is 'clean' in your vocabulary?"
"Yes," he answered, though I had my doubts. He glanced over at me, and shook his head, wondering how I dared to ask him such a preposterous question.
"What?" I asked. "I have to check!"
He just shook his head again, and sighed.
"Let's go," I said, and we headed off to school, me and my son with the limited vocabulary.
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