We have an on-going battle in our house with trying to get Jacob dressed in the mornings.
He employs every single delaying tactic known to human boy toddlers and there doesn’t seem to be any good reason for it.
A few theories have crossed my mind, for example; is he destined to be a nudist and if so, will I have to get a lock for the sitting room that has the ‘good sofa’ in it? Or is there a chance that he’s a psychopathic control freak in the making and if so, do I have to get Oprah on speed-dial?
And believe me when I tell you that we have tried as many tricks as we can think of; we have let him choose his clothes the night before so that he might gleefully jump into them when he wakes up; we have tried putting a ‘rule’ in place that everyone gets washed and dressed upstairs before going down for breakfast; we even pretend that his best friend’s mum has been on the phone to tell us that Ethan is already dressed and on his way to school so we better win that race!
Nothing has really worked. Or at least, it works for a short time and then he stops playing ball. He knows how to open the stairgates and gets downstairs before us so any chance of us all getting dressed at the same time is kind of scuppered. When I try to mention that Ethan is ‘probably already in pre-school right now and you’re losing the race!’, he sort of shrugs and says ‘I’ll see him later’. My boy is in no hurry.
The latest is that he wants to take his pjs off by himself as a ‘surprise’ so I have to wait in the kitchen while he goes into another room to do just that. When I’m still sitting there five minutes later and realise he isn’t coming back, I stick my head around the sitting room door to find him happily playing with cars, with his pjs still on. Every. Time.
