The other day I asked Keb if he wanted me to pick out his clothes. He said ok. I picked blue pants and a striped polo. Apparently when he got to school he made a point of telling everyone that his mom picked out his clothes (this is what Taed told me). It was even unprompted. It’s not like he looked uber-nerdy or anything.
When I asked him why he did this, he told me he didn’t like the shirt, but he didn’t want to tell me. I pointed out he could have gone to his room to select a different shirt. Heck, I’d left by that time. Again, he didn’t want to hurt my feelings. I guess I should be happy about that.
Based on that, I asked him if there was anything else he didn’t want. Out went all the tie-dyed shirts as well as some stuff I got from Gymboree and Lands End. I have to admit that he’s no longer mine to dress. If he doesn’t like it, he won’t wear it. It makes me a little sad. He’s his own person. He may be my son, but he’s not mine.
That’s hard to come to when your child is only 7.