(Otherwise known as “footed pajamas” in the rest of the world.)
A few weeks ago, Lucy decided she wanted fuzzy footie jammies for her birthday. In August. She hasn’t worn footed pajamas in probably over two years, but she was insistent, because doesn’t everyone need fleece full-coverage pjs in the dead of summer? She also declared that she would like Halloween pajamas. Also in August. Naturally. Thank goodness for best friends, because ours gladly accepted the challenge, and as Lucy opened her gift from Blair at Cafe Patachou (Lucy’s birthday brunch pick – I hate to brag, but clearly we are raising girls with good taste), her eyes grew wide with glee upon seeing both footie pajamas AND Halloween pajamas. When we arrived home later that day, she said to me, “Mom. I was so surprised that Blair gave me both footie jammies and Halloween jammies!! I didn’t know she would buy me both!” (Best friend lesson numero uno: they always give you the best birthday surprises.)
Even though we had to pick Audrey up in less than an hour that day, Lucy immediately changed out of her birthday dress and into the above-mentioned footie pajamas. We fought about whether or not she could wear them into Audrey’s school to pick her up. (No.) She changed back into her dress, we got Audrey, and before Audrey was even done washing her hands at home, Lu was back in the footie pajamas.
And so it has gone every day since receiving them. She changes out of them at the last possible moment before leaving the house, and she is back in them as quickly as she can be upon returning home. She is obsessed. So far, we have established that we cannot wear footie pajamas to school, to Costco, to the doctor’s office, to Fresh Market, or to Target. Basically, we cannot where them anywhere outside of the house, yet the girl gets an A+ for trying.
The problem is that I get distracted by these footie pjs. I see her marching around the house, all cozy and cute, and I have to stop everything I’m doing to steal some snuggles. I want to curl up on the couch with this footie-jammie clad girl and never get back up. I want to hug her and smooch her way more than usual (which is a lot). Can. Not. Resist. Footie. Jammies.
Yesterday, as I gave her the five minute warning to put on some regular clothes before going to get Audrey, she sighed heavily and said, “MOM. Why don’t they just make footie CLOTHES? That you can wear OUT of the house??”
Probably because then the world would stop. Because no one would get anything done. Because we’d all be so busy snuggling and staying cozy in footie jammies all day long.
This morning, as rain pounded hard on our windows and the sky still looked so dark, she said, from her perch on the couch, “Um, Mom? It’s raining way too hard to go to the gym. You’re just gonna have to exercise in your room today. I’m not changing out of these footie jammies with all that rain out there. No way.”
How do I argue with this?
Impossibly cute.
