End of an Era

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.


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