Of all my Daddy duties, I hate getting the boys dressed the most. Ok maybe hate is too strong a word, I dislike getting them dressed.
They share a dresser which makes it difficult to find what is whose. The fact that they are close in age and size compounds this process even more. If it was up to me, I would let them run around naked unless they have to leave the house. Run a mini nudist colony in our house. Don’t worry, it would only apply to age 5 and under.
Getting the boys dressed involves me taking out one pair of jeans after another and trying them on two boys. If it doesn’t fit, then I must acquit, so the third boy gets it as per the elimination process. The following exchange is not uncommon:
Me: Ok Mikhail, is this your pants? (Holds it up)
Mikhail: (Chuckling) Daddy! That’s Treyton’s. I am not that little
Me: Never mind then. I was only kidding anyways so don’t tell mommy that I don’t know your clothes. Ok Kenyan, here’s your shirt. (Puts it on Kenyan then laughs). Kenyan, this is too small on you, it must be Treyton’s.
Kenyan: Daddy, that’s my shirt!
Me: Is it?? (I am confused now)
Kenyan: (Laughs) Just kidding Daddy! It’s Treytons.
Me: (Thinking man this is frustrating. Why can’t mommy lay out their clothes daily or store them away properly?) Ok guys, grab your pants.
Treyton: Daddy do I look cute? (He’s wearing a pants a couple of sizes too big)
Me: Now whose shirt is this? Ok Kenny, try this on.
Kenyan: That’s not mine, it’s Mikhail’s
Me: (Thinking to myself) Does this shirt match the pants? It it too warm or too cold to wear? Jacket. Would they need a jacket with it? And how about shoes? Sandals or runners? Man oh man…
And that’s why I
hate dislike getting them dressed.