Posted by Duff

Excuse the lull in posting. I’ve been trying to wrangle some clothes on The Dervish. And picking up the many outfits she leaves in her wake on any given day.

I should have seen this coming. Everyone told me that kids (especially girls) reach a naked stage. I know how particular The Dervish is about certain fabrics and elastic or closures of any kind against her skin. But I thought since it didn’t happen in her threes, we’d be safe.

Well.

It started with the barefootness. Which I can relate to. I only wear shoes when I have to, only for as long as I have to. I spend the summer with calloused heels and dirt ingrained in my soles within days of a pedicure because, let’s be honest, it’s comfortable. Grass feels good. And if I’m going to pay for polish or undertake the job of applying it painstakingly myself, people should see it. But I know where to draw the line.

The Dervish doesn’t.

So when I tuned the TV to Nick Jr. and went to do some laundry, I didn’t expect I’d come back to a naked child eating raspberries.  Or when she played in the sink while I cooked, I didn’t think I’d turn around and find her in her birthday suit.

Choose your battles, they say, and these days, we’ve got enough. So the new rules are: underwear at meals, or when sitting on couches or chairs; when outside, a bathing suit is minimum (though I often have to stop her from ripping it off);  and clothing is not negotiable when we’ve got company. 

Because, well, that’s just good manners.

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