Ok buddy, let’s get dressed. What would you like to wear today? (I pull out a blue striped shirt from his dresser as BB watches from his changing table, unimpressed.) Here’s a blue shirt you haven’t worn in a while, look no tag (he’s refusing to wear shirts with tags). You like blue — No, no blue.
You sure? It’s really nice. No blue.
Ooh, how about your bunny shirt? No bunny. But the bunny is blue! No blue.
Ok, how about your monster shirt? (I fake growl and he whimpers.) No monster!
Ok then, how about your red shirt? It’s red like a fire truck. Fire truck? Yes, fire truck. Fire truck? (BB physically inspects the t-shirt looking for a fire truck.)
Yes, wait – no, no. It’s red like a fire truck, not an actual fire truck. (BB stares blankly at me.) There’s no truck. He starts to sing: Hew-wo fire truck, fire truck hew-wo.
Whatever – yes, hello fire truck! So you want the red shirt? Yeah!
Ok, great! (I put the shirt on him, temporarily basking in the mild waves of accomplishment falling over me before I realize…) Wow… That shirt doesn’t match your cool football shorts whatsoever now (they were already picked out). Whatever, looking good bud!
(I stand him up on his changing table. BB bends over, picks up the the first blue shirt I suggested and holds it up to his legs, then looks at me.) Buddy that’s a shirt, you can’t wear it as pants. I want it.
No, I’m sorry buddy. You can’t wear two shirts, you can only wear one shirt. (I think of a time long, long ago in the early thousands when we did, in fact, wear two shirts at the same time. It was college, and it was a strange period in my life.) But I want it. (BB tries to put shirt on his head.)
Honey that’s not a hat, that’s a shirt. (BB stares blankly.) Do you want to wear the blue shirt? Yeah!
(I exhale a heavy sigh as he struggles to escape from the confines of the red, truckless shirt, and eagerly slip on the first fucking shirt he said no to ten minutes ago.)