29 May 2009


Yesterday afternoon I was busy writing, and let Sacha watch entirely too much television--it's the cheapest babysitter around!

When it was time to pick up Sarah and Gabriel from school, I went into the den and gave him the five-minute warning. I also noticed that he was not wearing any pants.

This is not unusual, because my children, especially my boys, have a very casual relationship with clothing. It is always a surprise, when I check on the kids before going up to bed, to see what Sacha is wearing, compared to what clothing we put him to bed in. Some nights he take off his shirt, others his pants, and others still, he strips completely, and these are the nights I dread, because while he is undeniably irresistible in his altogether, he has also very likely peed in the crib.

So when I went to gather him for the trip to school, I was actually pleased to see he was still wearing his diaper, and had not peed on the rug, or smeared poop on the television screen. (He has done this. On more than one occasion. Disgusting.)

But he did need pants to leave the house. I took a quick scan of the room and could not locate his pants, so I said "Sacha, we have to pick up Sarah and Gabriel; can you please help me find your pants?" And he looked at me, and I saw the corners of his mouth creep with the slightest suggestion of a smile.

So I moved on to my strict voice and repeated myself. And this time, he broke into a grin.

Then I asked one last time, in my ANGRY VOICE, "Sacha, where are your pants?"

This time, he snickered, and said, "Whatever."

It was extremely funny. He was very cute standing there naked from the waist down, and to make matters worse, he is sporting a fresh new hair cut this week, and so is EVEN MORE ADORABLE THAN USUAL.

But I do not take kindly to lip from my children--now, when they are young, is the time to lay down the law; otherwise, how can I expect them to listen when they are teenagers--so I had to do my best not to break strict mommy character, although I wanted to burst out laughing. So despite the fact that I had wasted five minutes trying to get my son to produce his pants, I promptly sat his small, diapered posterior on the bottom step for a TIME OUT.

I scanned the den one more time, where I found the pants wedged in the television cabinet. I removed him from the step, replaced his pants, and off we went to get the big kids.

You may wonder why I didn't circumvent the entire situation by going upstairs and retrieving a new pair of pants. I wondered about that myself. But sometimes, despite our best intentions, we find ourselves locked in a power struggle with our children. Sacha and I were having a STAND OFF, and I wasn't going to be the one to back down. Mature, right?

So yesterday we were a few minutes late for pick-up, and I have not turned on the television yet today.

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