Today was grandad’s birthday, so the children were dressing smartly for a little party at his house.
Dan: “I don’t want to wear that. Not that, mummy. I don’t want to wear that.”
I am forcing him to wear a pretty pink dress . . . no of course I’m not, but you’d think that’s what it was with all the fuss he’s making.
It’s a shirt. A short sleeved trendy shirt.
Me: “Why ever not?”
“It’s got buttons.”
He’s all whiney and scowling now.
“I don’t like buttons on stuff. You don’t make Mia wear things with buttons.”
“‘Since when have buttons been bad?”
“I just DON’T WANT TO WEAR A TOP WITH BUTTONS.”
“Dan buddy, I really don’t know what all the fuss is about. It’s a shirt. You’ve worn them before. You’ve never made a fuss about it before.”
“But whenever I wear anything with buttons everyone’s all ‘you’re so handsome Daniel’ or ‘you’re so cute Daniel’ and they say it all the time, over and over and I just don’t want them to.”
“Well I tell you what, if you put it on for me I will tell everyone today that they can absolutely NOT tell you that you are handsome. OK?”
“Alright then. But make sure you tell them. And don’t tell them I told you to say it cause they’ll think I’m weird.”