What a Life!

One of the things I swore I would never do as a parent was to laugh at my children. I remember doing dumb things when I was in school and the other kids laughing at me, and I didn’t want to do that to my children.

When Ben came out all dressed and ready to go one morning, my resolve was firmly tested. I had to pretend I was laughing at something on my computer because I just couldn’t stop. Then, evil mother that I am, I convinced him to let me take pictures of him talking on his phone. Just so I would forever remember this:

Ben wearing his shorts inside out. Not just any pair of shorts. A pair of shorts with lined pockets. Could he possibly look any sillier?

This morning I handed him a polo shirt to wear, and he put it on backwards. Yesterday he put on his sweatshirt jacket on upside down (I honestly didn’t know it could be worn that way). Half the time when he puts on his socks, he puts them on so the gray part (the sole) is on the top of his foot. I would think that would be uncomfortable, but he doesn’t seem to care.

Whenever we see my parents, my dad works and works with Ben, trying to teach him how to put things on correctly. But the thing is, all the explaining in the world doesn’t matter. He simply. doesn’t. care.

When I was a kid, I often heard that cleanliness is next to godliness. I would put neatness right in there next to cleanliness. But is it a genetic thing? Is it a part of their brain that has to develop, like balance?

I try not to take it too seriously. He can dress however he wants when we’re at home. But when we go to town, he has to put things on properly. Even then, I don’t always catch everything. Last weekend when we got home from visiting Steve’s grandmother, we realized he’d had his shorts on backwards all afternoon. Hopefully if it wasn’t obvious enough for us to catch it, no one else noticed either.

Is it something that goes along with being able to tie ones shoes? We can’t even get him to untie his shoes and take them off, much less tie them. It’s like he just doesn’t have it in him to focus on the task, grab the string, pull it, and then take his shoes off.

And speaking of focus, tell him to go put his clothes on and he forgets what he was going to do half way to his bedroom. I swear, there isn’t a hurry bone in his body. If I want him to get dressed so we can go somewhere, I have to supervise. every. single. step. I’m tellin’ ya…

I keep hoping that this too shall pass, that it’s a phase, that he’ll grow out of it. I hope I’m right, because it’s a phase that is totally driving me nuts. And going crazy probably isn’t next to godliness either.