Our power struggles over clothes began when you were a wee littler barely a year old. You have always had strong opinions on what you should wear, and we’ve had arguments over suitable attire since before you could actually communicate in legitimate words.
As long as all important areas are covered, I normally just let it go. Mix and match, go crazy. Express your creativity, girl.
It’s when those areas are not covered that I have a problem.
So imagine my discomfort as you were getting dressed this weekend. And you refused to wear underwear with your shorts.
Shorts are not underwear.
This was the lecture I was forced to engage in with you, my 3 year old daughter, which is not the way I imagined my Saturday morning. I sat you down and explained how shorts were like pants, and we need underwear with both. We wear underwear, period. Always. It doesn’t matter. I’m only thinking of you, this is for your own good. Because while it might start innocuously enough, next thing you know your private bits are splashed on the cover of magazines.
There’s a woman named Britney Spears. Also, Paris Hilton. I can show you pictures when you’re older. Though I’d really prefer not to. Just trust me and put on some underwear.