"Then what are you wearing?" I asked him.
"Funderwear." He answered nonchalantly.
"Hmmmm.... I see," said I.
As many of you know, we are going through a no pants phase. No matter what I say, or how much I nag, Sam just doesn't want to wear them. I think I tell him a million times a day, and now, he just ignores me. I feel like I am dead to him sometimes... I can scream and yell and throw tantrums, and still he won't acknowledge me.
"Funderwear," apparently, is meant to see seen, not hidden under those boring things called pants. Heaven forbid we cover up Spiderman or Thomas the Tank Engine!
For months, now, I have been trying to come up with some way to motivate Sam to start wearing pants. So far, nothing has worked.
Today, as I was sitting on the couch nursing the baby, watching Sam run around with Woody and Buzz on his butt, I tapped into my inner child. I was, for a split second, in 2nd grade again. As Sam dashed by me, my arm uncontrollably shot out, grabbed the top of his "Funderwear" and gave him... you called it... a wedgie.
Oh, yeah. I was 7 again, and pulling wedgies! What parent does that?! Seriously! I was so ashamed of myself for like a split second when my husband, who had been watching, shot me a look of horror. Then I got over it pretty quick when I became an adult again and decided to fix things by making it a teaching experience.
"Mommy!" Sam yelled at me as he picked his favorite Pixar peeps out of his behind. "Why you do that!?"
"It's called a 'wedgie', Sam"
"Cat!" Ben scolded me. "You are being a bad influence teaching him about wedgies! What do you think the first thing he is going to do when Nephi wakes up?"
I held my hand out as a gesture to wait me out.
"Samuel, go get your pants on," I said.
"Do you want another wedgie?"
"Then go get your pants on." I told him calmly.
"No, I don't want to."
"Sam, go get your pants on."
"Okay, okay." He went and got his pants on. Ben was impressed. I sat back with a sneaky smile on my face, like I had it planned all along. But really, honestly, I have my inner child to thank... that 7 year old inside me just couldn't help herself! And now, I have a viable threat to get Sam to put his pants on. Go me!
Now if I can only get him to wear them forwards instead of backwards....