Shokufeh is... home

My fashion plate

Tonight, I came home to find MrMan asleep on the floor*, diapered butt in the air, clothes strewn around him. It was immediately apparent what kind of evening it had been. Lately, he's been quite obsessed with what he's wearing. Weekday mornings, there's not much compromising, since he has to wear a plain white shirt and navy bottoms to school. But, in the evenings and on the weekends, it's like he's making up for lost time.
We have to go through multiple wardrobe changes. The shirt with the crab on it. The beans and rice shirt. The tan shorts. The olive shorts. This pajama top. Those pajama bottoms. No, that shirt. The funny thing is that he is the one choosing what he wants to wear. Within split seconds of our helping him put it on, he starts screaming as if we've placed a shawl of nettles on him. And we have to take it off and move on to something else.
Apparently, this evening, he asked for a bath as soon as Sam got home from work. And then came to the dinner table wearing a pajama shirt and a diaper and clutching at least two pieces of clothing.

*This sounds more extreme than it is. Next to his bed, MrMan has a folded up comforter. It started out as a buffer in case he rolled off the bed on the floor. But over time, he's adopted it as his sleeping pallet. Sam thinks it's weird. But since I'm a fan of floor-sleeping, I think it's great.