Pantless

Last week, Josie and I had an all out brawl over a pair of shorts.

She didn't want to wear them, I wanted her to.

They weren't just normal jean shorts.  I gave up on getting her to wear those years ago.  These were adorable, lace trimmed Mustard Pie shorts.  They bubbled out just the right amount and had the most perfect wooden buttons on the belt line.  

The second she saw them hanging by her door, her eyeballs started rolling to the back of her head.  Arched eyebrows, head cocked to the side, "I don't wear shorts."

"Well you do if you're planning to come to the zoo with us, Sister," was thrown out over my shoulder as I left to get my other, much more agreeable, child dressed.

I came back in ten minutes later to see her pouting over the shorts.  I gave her a warning, get dressed or get left behind.

She called my bluff.  Turns out 6 year olds know that it's illegal to leave them unattended while you hit up the zoo.

Another ten minutes pass and now we are borderline late to meet our friends.  

I feel my blood starting to get hot.  I am losing this battle and my pride is starting to bruise.  Why can I not get a child half my size to put on a dang pair of shorts?!?!

One. Last. Warning.  Given slightly louder, in a slightly lower voice.  Growls get action around here.  She puts the shorts on and comes to the kitchen squalling, yes, squalling something about how they are hurting her and everyone is going to laugh at her and she looks SO STUPID in shorts.

Now I'm just staring at her.

Not sure whether to comfort her and tell her what she wears doesn't make her stupid or purge ahead to prove a point.  Wondering how a surprise trip to the zoo turned into a battle of wills.

I stood silent for a few minutes.  Gave myself a pep talk and told my pride to step to the side.  Seriously.  They're pants.  Who cares if she wears them or not?

I apologized for making a big deal about it.  She apologized for making a big deal about it.  And than I went upstairs and put all her shorts and pants in a box to give away.  

I'm not fighting with my daughter about clothes.  It's not worth the tears.  Not worth getting angry about.  For sure not worth instilling any sort of importance in appearance in her.

She's pantless.  And couldn't be happier about it.

Let the twirling commence.