The G will concede to a hat and mittens, in addition to his summer wear...on days of his choosing. 

It's hard to believe, looking at that sweet face, that this child is driving me to the brink of insanity.  It's true. It's not about the sassiness or the defiance or even the potty words--those are the things I was 'prepared' for with a 4 year old boy. It's about the dress code.

Now, I consider myself a pretty laid back momma, especially when it comes to clothes.  I strive for clean and weather appropriate--and those are about my only 2 requirements. I have some basic requirements about church clothes, but they are very loose.  In short, I chose L's clothes because she could care less and Garrett choses (and has for quite some time) his own.

To illustrate my point, Garrett wore the exact same outfit (of his choosing) to school for the first 6 weeks--before you think I'm some sort of laundry genius, he only goes Tu/Th.  His teachers graciously allowed him to wear flip flops, as in years past tennis shoes were the rule.  The shorts were a pair of size 3s from Kohls from last year.  When he was 2.  They were faded and produced a muffin top like I've never seen on a small child.  The shirt was worn thread bare in two spots.  And if I ever see either of those items again, my head might explode.

Here are the specific requirements of Sir Garrett's clothing:  shirts must be snug fitting and not hang past the waist band of his shorts.  Shorts must hit well above the knee, but not touch the belly button.  Socks of any sort are from the devil.  Pants, long sleeve shirts, jackets, even tennis shoes are out.  Bare feet are preferable, but flip flops will do.

My laissez-faire attitude was making for days of peace and nights of laundry, and I was happy.  But now, the frickin weather has changed and a paper thin t-shirt that almost exposes his belly button and shorts that are 2 sizes too small just won't cut it.  So.....every morning....every flippin morning....we have the same 'discussion' about clothes.  It usually starts something like, "you need to wear some long pants and a long shirt", with G responding No....and it spirals downward from there.

I've tried all the usual and customary threats, punishments, bribes, and rewards, so please don't suggest some sort of cheesy sticker chart....because The General (that'd be G, not me) would laugh in the face of a sticker chart.  This is a child that would forfeit riding his bike over putting on acceptable clothing--he's a machine, I tell you.  A machine of self-control, tenacity, persistence, intense opinion, and pure hard-headedness.  He's wearing me down, breaking my spirit in a slow, systematic fashion--GITMO's got nothing on this kid, people.   Anyway, the point of this ramble is this:  if you see us in January and The G is wearing some blatantly inappropriate ensemble--don't judge, just know that I've made the decision to preserve my sanity over his body temperature.  Every man for himself!