Wednesday 26 June 2013


I’m starting to think I’m raising Eddie Izzard. For those of you that aren’t fans of his comic genius, he’s a British comic that is well worth checking out. But his comic chops are not exactly what he and the King have in common, although the King is incredibly funny (then again, I’m biased). Izzard is also keen on wearing women’s clothing and often does so in his private life and when performing. 

At the moment, the King’s sartorial style and preoccupation on clothing is a full time fixation. From the moment he gets up in the morning to when he goes to bed at night, we are negotiating about what he wears (and I thought by having a boy I would bypass this problem!). And those of you that know me will grasp the irony. I love clothes as much as the next person, but I’m not a big shopper, my closet could fit in the trunk of a car (that’s England for you) and I am always the first one in the house that is ready (my husband and the King are in heavy competition for who can take longer…hence, I may have an idea where my son’s fixation has come from). Moreover, as a mother, I am frighteningly used to having something on my clothing at all times be it food, dirt, spit or snot. Motherhood, it's not always pretty. The King on the other hand - like his father - will see a spot on his shirt and proclaim (loudly) that 'it's dirty' and have to take it off immediately (there is nothing funnier than watching my husband spill something on himself. He goes from mild mannered to OCD lunatic in about six seconds). 

It started with the King just wanting to pick out his outfit; I expected nothing less from an authoritative three year old, so I kind of just went with it. I’d give him choices – the books claim this circumvents the problem – and assumed he’d see three choices and he’d pick one of them. Yeah. Not so much. The King knows there is a whole dresser of clothes and he’s not going to be relegated to a few options when 30 can be had. Then it went from him wanting to pick something, to him wanting to wear only stripes, or dots, or something red, or something with a particular object on it etc. Fine, I expected that as well. They’re kids, they fixate, and every day of the week often brings a new obsession.

But then it quickly morphed into his need to get changed every two seconds depending on what I or other people had on. Currently my dresses, tank tops and sandals are extremely alluring. Despite my telling him boys don’t wear dresses (which is not entirely true, hence Mr. Izzard), he isn’t quite convinced, especially when he sees men on the high street wearing all sorts of sartorial concoctions (for religious and fashionable reasons). Often when I go to pick him up from nursery he is naked, or wearing someone else’s clothing (my favorite outfit thus far was a pink fur trimmed jacket and black tights) and they will tell me that he purposely poured water on himself so that he could change into something else – the kid is clever, I’ll give him that. Or on the flipside, he is wearing more clothes than any boy should, donning three shirts and four pairs of underpants at once. He gives new definition to the term clotheshorse. 

I suppose it could be worse, as he could be insisting on wearing capes, wizard hats and cowboy chaps out of the house. I guess I’ll start to worry when he asks me if he can get a suit made of PVC like Mr. Izzard and wear it to nursery. Then again, who am I to kill his creative flair, I’m sure he looks at me wearing the same dress three days in a row (if I’m tired I will literally belt a pillow case to make my life easier) and thinks, dear god does my mom need a makeover.

Happy Hump Day all. 

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