Charlie put on jeans and a button up shirt for picture day on his own. Like, he decided to wear it.
Yes, this is a monumental moment. Since this day years ago, what Charlie wears has always been one of those parenting struggles I avoid at all cost.
He came down the stairs and I was shocked. You know how you don't want to startle a squirrel? So you just stand there and pretend you don't see it while looking out of the corner of your eye? Don't move, don't say anything, don't frighten him away lest he scurry back upstairs and change into sweat pants and a mismatched t-shirt.
I just stood there. "Good morning." Not too cheery, not to mundane. Just right. You see, if he thinks I'm too cheery, he will know that I noticed his attire. If I say it too mundane, he will think I didn't notice at all.
Walk on egg shells, much?
"Is this ok for picture day?!" he asked proudly. This was my invitation to encourage him on his good choice. The wind was blowing in just the right direction. "I think that's an excellent choice! I love it!" I reply with a smile.
"I thought you would." he says, rather smugly, but with a smirk.
WAIT. He thought of me? He thought about what I might want him to wear on picture day? What is this thing? What is happening?
My well-dressed-child-without-a fight dreams are coming true. But I won't hold my breath. Next weekend we have a family wedding to attend. And God only knows which direction the wind will be blowing on that day.
For now, I'll give my adorably dressed squirrel a hug before he scurries away. Or bites me.
And no, I do not have a picture. Are you kidding me? Rule number one around skiddish squirrels on picture day, no flash photography. Does that sentence even make sense? Of course not. Parenting rarely does.