Olivia, 8, my vivacious middle kid, has suddenly declared war on getting dressed for school. It hit new heights when she refused every clothing I laid out the night before. And here I am, standing in the kitchen, coffee in hand, wondering, “Is it too early for this?”.
So there I was, a father hoping for a morning victory. I walked into Olivia’s room, saw her collection of weird pajamas, and thought, “Why not?” The next morning, I calmly dropped the bombshell: “Hey, Liv, what if we shake things up a bit and go to school in those snazzy PJs of yours?”
Her eyes lit up,and just like that, we had a morning pact.But here’s the twist: things didn’t go exactly as planned. Olivia, dressed in unicorn-themed pajamas, got into the car and we drove away. The customary morning conversation was replaced by an unsettling hush. I could see the wheels turning in her little head, wondering if she had entered the twilight zone of parenting.
When we arrived at the school, reality hit us hard. Olivia was now unsure about her fashion statement. “Dad, can we go back?” I want to change!” she cried, seeming to stress out. I stood firm, determined to teach her a lesson about options. “Sorry, kiddo, we’re committed to the PJs today.”
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