Sunday, August 05, 2007

On pants-wearing (not).

(I actually wrote this in July, shortly before I left on my long summer trip, which is nearly over, and I planned to post it long before now. However, spotty internet access and vacation-induced stupidity made me forget about it. So here it is.)

I was just reading over at Friday Playdate about kids not wearing pants, and it reminded me that I'd also been reading some musings on the same theme at Dooce. And so that, then, made me consciously realize that I, too, often don't put on pants in the house after awakening. Eventually, I'll throw on a pair of shorts, or if it's chilly, sweats, but the early morning will find me sitting at the computer, checking my email in my undies, right by the front door, which Mr. Plainsfeminist seems to like to open, without warning, while I'm sitting there. (And then he gets irritated when I yell at him about it, for some reason.)

Bean is also going through that brutally honest phase that kids go through, which is one reason I suspect that certain people (you know the ones) don't like kids. You know what I mean - "look at that fat lady" or "why does that man gots no hair?" kind of statements, the comments kids made that make you want to curl up and die. So what this means for me is that I have to hear about my bad breath and "poky" legs all the time. It's giving me a complex. Adults do not have sweet, flower-smelling breath the way some kids do (they really do, sometimes, though not Bean after a garlic spinach pocket - I can practically smell him in the next room). But all of a sudden, Bean keeps complaining that I have bad breath, and I am starting to think that maybe I'm not eating the right foods or something and am having a ketosis problem since he never complained before. It's making me very self-conscious, and I find myself sucking on breath mints and keeping my hand over my mouth a lot.

The "poky" legs thing is simply that Bean does not care to sit on my lap when I am wearing shorts and my legs are not freshly shaven. I get frequent orders to "put on long pants!" because he objects to the pokiness of even the slightest amount of stubble.

Basically, I feel like a sasquatch with bad breath these days.

But I'm thinking that my prediliction for pants-lessness might partly explain why Bean emerged from his room this afternoon, while we had company, with his underpants on his head, and bare nekkid from the waist down. I, myself, am not much into hats, so I can't really explain the headgear. However, given these options, I think I much prefer smelly sasquatch-ness to this young Frank Barone behavior. (Incidentally, this link will take you to one of the more poorly-written Wikipedia entries I've come across so far.)

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