I was sooooo excited to make Petra’s Easter dress. She’s obsessed with bunnies, as you may be aware, and I found this incredible fabric (I loved it so much that I ordered it in orange, too):
I set right to work and turned out a classic little number, with which I am quite pleased. I modeled it on a dress from Baby GAP that my step-mom got her for Christmas.
Silas noticed me pressing and pinning and closing little button holes, and he was a bit jealous. “Aren’t you going to make me a special Easter outfit, too?” he said. I had been planning on it, but it hadn’t materialized yet. So I asked him what he wanted. He said he wanted an orange shirt. I wanted his shirt to go with Petra’s dress, but it didn’t have to be the same fabric. Children in tow, we hit every fabric store in town until he found it–perfection. An orange background with tiny starbursts all over it–some of which were the exact same teal as Petra’s dress. I knew I’d have enough bunny fabric left over to do the trim on it. I felt like a genius. How could we have found a fabric that Silas loved, and I could tolerate?
So, Easter morning, I popped Petra into her little number (I’m sure I got better pictures at that point, but I can’t find them now. Here’s some less detailed ones).
Then I turned to Silas. “Here’s your Easter shirt, buddy.”
That’s when he stuck out his fat toddler lip and said, “I’m not wearing it.”
I begged. I cajoled. I bribed. No dice.
So we put him in some other thing and went to church. He kept trying to engage me on it, and I refused to discuss it. He got his way, and I wasn’t going to make him much of anything else because it clearly was pointless. This was not the answer he wanted. He wanted me to fight with him. I was not in the mood for fighting with a toddler.
Finally, he said, “I won’t wear it until Valentine’s Day!”
We left it at that. But he remembered this, and occasionally in the weeks that followed, he’d see it in a drawer and remind us that he wouldn’t wear it until after Valentine’s Day.
So, 40 days go by, and Pentacost is coming up. I happen to remember, for once, that my church tries to get everyone to wear red, yellow, and orange for Pentacost–like the fire of the Holy Spirit. I always forget. At least I don’t get pinched, like when I forget my green on St. Patrick’s Day.
“JC,” I said, a few days before, “would it make me a bad parent if I convinced Silas that Pentacost was Valentine’s Day?”
It took a minute for the plan to click, but when it did, his eyes lit up. “No. It makes you brilliant.”
So we made heart-shaped toast and let him make glitter valentines, and he finally wore the shirt (but wouldn’t let me get a good picture).
Our church friends were a bit confused when he wished them a Happy Valentine’s Day. One pointed out that Pentacost is a celebration of God’s love for us–that God loved us enough to send us the Holy Spirit–so it wasn’t super far off.
Yes, it’s a stretch, but…when you’re dealing with toddlers, you do what works. Even if it means cleaning glitter out of your ears for a week.