Those, my friends, are corduroy pants on my firstborn child. Not "soft pants" (i.e. leggings) or a dress. Corduroys, with a zipper and a button and fabric that does not, to my knowledge, contain any Lycra or Spandex.
I'll pause for a moment while we all absorb the full poignancy of this event.
Ever since she was about Ellie's age, Keira has maintained a strict clothing policy that prohibits the wearing of jeans, corduroys, any pants with a button or zipper, and any shorts at all. She has lived the past three-ish years of her life in dresses and Target leggings (and, to be fair, has still managed to be an adorable and happy member of toddler and preschool society). How, then, did this revolutionary change come about? Read on, and I will reveal the secret to this and, I expect, all other parenting issues: fortune cookies.
No, seriously. Fortune cookies.
Back in October, we went out to P.F. Chang's for Uncle Andy's birthday, and Keira got a fortune cookie that said something like, DO NOT BE AFRAID TO TRY NEW THINGS. During that meal, she happened to sample something new off of Bear's plate, and we all made a big deal about how she was taking her cookie's advice and being such a brave girl, now that she's five years old and all.
A day or two later, after she declared that now she would not wear just ANY leggings, but only stretch capri leggings, I decided to see if I could cash in that fortune for something even better than a remedy for picky eating, because this constant narrowing of her wardrobe options was driving me insane. Besides that, leggings cannot withstand even our California version of "winter," and definitely cannot withstand the way Keira plays--between all the grass stains and holes I keep finding, they're one step away from disposable clothing at this point!
Phase One
I started dropping little comments here and there like, "You've been doing such a great job trying new things like your fortune cookie said! Maybe one of these days, now that you're five, we can try getting you some corduroy pants. They're soft like leggings but look very cute!" (In the interest of full disclosure, these cheerful hints were also interspersed by grumblings of, "For crying out loud, Keira, you can't go through your entire life in stretch capri leggings. Do you know what Stacy and Clinton would have to say about this?! Yes, they're cozy, but grown-ups can't go around in pajamas every day just because they're cozy!" And no, Keira has no idea who Stacy and Clinton are, and probably couldn't care less about their "Pajamafication of America" rants, but I couldn't help it.)
At first, she would meet these little hints with vague, politician-like promises such as, "Maybe I could try corduroys when I'm six..." or "Maybe sometime you could get me some, but do I have to wear them today or tomorrow?" Then began Phase Two.
Phase Two
I went out and bought the girls matching corduroys and made a huge deal over how cute Ellie looked in them, and how I couldn't wait to see Kiwi in hers. One morning, I got them out and told Keira I wanted her to try them on. She reluctantly pulled them up, buttoned and zipped them, said they fit, and then immediately asked if she could take them off again. "Not yet..." I told her. "Just wear them for a little while." During the hour or two that she wore them that morning, she must've asked me every four minutes if she could take them off yet, but my hope was that every minute she wore them would get her closer to acceptance of non-leggings. Bear and I raved over how cute she looked and how she was doing just what her fortune cookie had told her to do--trying something new! Rah rah rah! Then, when I couldn't stand her whining any longer, I relented and let her take them off. She and her leggings were blissfully reunited.
Phase Three
A week or two later, I made her wear the corduroys to preschool. I tried to sound positive about it, and met her "But do I have to wear them?" whines with annoyingly perky replies like, "Yep, and I know you can do it--I believe in you! Now what do you think you'll have for snack today?" (Something we've learned about our Kiwi is that the more we play into her fears by trying to reason with her, the more upset she gets and the more she clings to them. Brief reassurance and then changing the subject seem to work much better with her.) I wondered if she would annoy the absolute bejeezus out of her preschool teachers, asking all day if they had any leggings she could change into, but she made it all three hours without a complaint, and came out saying that she had decided her corduroys were OK. "But do I have to wear them EVERY day?"
So now we're in Phase Four: Integration. That Santa pic was the next time she wore them, a couple of weeks after her preschool outing, and she didn't really complain much at all. As long as we bust those suckers out every week or two and keep her used to them, I think we'll soon be on the road to Phase Five: Introduction of Jeans. And oh, what a day that shall be!!
Let this not be the only revolution started by a fortune cookie, my friends. Think of how many parenting problems and child behavior issues could be solved by removing the restaurant's fortunes with a pair of tweezers and substituting your own! (Or, for parents whose children have a host of issues to address, perhaps homemade fortune cookies by the dozen would be an alternative approach!) My upcoming book, tentatively entitled Fortune Cookie Parenting, will feature a myriad of suggestions, including
CONFUCIUS SAY, DO NOT PICK NOSE IN PUBLIC
A LUCKY SURPRISE MAY FIND YOU THIS WEEK...IF YOUR ROOM IS CLEAN
DIAPERS ARE FOR BABIES; POTTIES ARE FOR BIG KIDS!
and, for those whose older children need a little extra math practice,
YOUR LUCKY NUMBERS: 5x7, 6x3, 8x4, 2x9, 4x4, 8x6, and 3x7.
But wait--that's not all! Use this idea on your spouse (HE WHO RELINQUISHES THE REMOTE SHALL FIND TRUE HAPPINESS; SPEAK NOT DURING FOOTBALL, FOR THAT IS WHAT COMMERICALS ARE FOR...), your friends (CONFUCIUS SAY, SHARE NOT WITH FACEBOOK YOUR EVERY MOVE), or even your coworkers (TO ABANDON A JAMMED COPY MACHINE IS THE GREATEST OF ALL SINS). Virtually all of life's problems can be solved with a cookie!
But we already knew that.
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