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Why your kids like to play dress up
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Ever since Adam handed his best girl a leaf, there’s been trouble. I imagine it was at that point that the first lover’s quarrel took place; Adam no doubt picked up the wrong leaf. It was probably too small, and not exactly the right shade of green.
“Don’t you know that lime ruins my complexion?” Eve would have said, “I need earth tones, Adam! For god’s sake, why don’t you ever listen?”
And Adam would have thrown up his hands, sighed, and said: “Fine, find your own,” after which Eve would have stomped off to go pout and read her tattered copy of Mars and Venus, all the while practicing in her head what she’s going to say to him next time he shows his ugly face.
I wonder if things would have gone smoother if Eve would have just put her foot down and said: “Leaf? What leaf? I don’t need a leaf. I am not ashamed, and besides, the weather is fine. Put that down; let’s go for a walk.”
What a different world we could have ended up with. Just imagine, if we didn’t have to worry what to wear to job interviews, first dates, our wedding. There would be money left over at the end of the month, there would be no more need for dry cleaning, and everyone would go to the gym. Maybe, without that certain piece of fabric, Clinton wouldn’t have gotten caught; Madonna wouldn’t have been famous, we would have never had to put up with skinny jeans.
It would have certainly made a difference in our house. While my daughter changes in and out of clothes with the speed of a runway model, my son likes to leave it all behind.
I know; it’s great, they are expressing themselves. The thing is, when I want to go run an errand, and I’m faced with a child in a pink tutu with fairy wings and a purple boa on one side, and a completely naked child on the other, I can’t help but think: is it really so bad to leave very young children home alone?
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