Would it kill you to put on some clothes?

Mendel gets ready for school.

When kids enter the picture, smooth mornings become a thing of the past. No more quietly enjoying your first cup of coffee, or sleeping in as long as you can and then dashing out the door; and you may as well cancel your morning paper.

There is breakfast to eat, lunch to prepare, hair to braid; there are missing shoes, missing hair thingies, missing books, and then there is Mendel with his wardrobe issues.

It’s my least favorite part: convincing my 4-year-old son to get dressed.
Here’s how that goes:

“Mendel, you need to get dressed.”
“…”
“Mendel, come here.”
“…”
“I said, come here. Take off your jammies.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s time for school.”
“It’s time for school?”
“Yes, and you need to get dressed.”
“Why?”
“Because you can’t go to school in your jammies, that’s why. Come on.”
“Okay.”
(Takes off his pajamas very slowly)
“Mendel, come back here.”
“…”
“Mendel…”
“…”
“Mendel, put on your underwear.”
(Runs around room, dances a little jig)
“Mendel, put on your underwear!”

Finally, he puts on his underwear, at which point I take advantage of the distraction to slip his undershirt over his head. As soon as that’s done, he runs into the bathroom because now he has to pee. After five minutes of doodling, he agrees to come back into his room.

“Put on your pants.”
“…”
“Please.”
“I don’t want to wear these pants. I want to wear those pants.”
“Those are summer pants. It’s cold outside. You need warm pants.”
“…”
“Mendel…”
“…”
“MENDEL!!!”
“Okay, okay, I’ll wear these pants! Sheesh!”
“Great, thank you. And your shirt.”
“I don’t like this shirt.”
“Mendel!!!”
“I don’t like this shirt!!!”
“Fine. Pick a different one.”
“I will. After I find my Lego man.”
“No; no Lego man. You need to put on a shirt.”
“Why?”
“There is no why. Just put it on.”
(Reluctantly buttons his shirt)

Eventually, socks get put on (the only easy part about this whole ordeal. For some reason he never argues about his socks) we fuss a little about which shoes are weather-appropriate, and we make it down stairs, where he has barely enough time to eat breakfast and brush his teeth. The fact that we have –so far- only been late to school twice is nothing less than a miracle. Maybe one of these days I will drop him off in his pajamas; see if that doesn’t cure him once and for all.

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