In Life by Lisa Burnett

Sorry for the length between posts.  We were dealing with this in Colorado this week:


The wind stopped blowing 100 mph for a few minutes so I could take this picture.  Okay, maybe not 100, but hard enough to make going anywhere impossible.  I was happy that I prepared for this weather, even though it is way too early to have a storm like this here.  My son had brand new winter clothes- a new coat, new mittens, a new hat (the cutest little thing I got at Baby Gap):


And new boots that his grandpa bought him a few weeks ago:


Notice that I don't have a picture of my son actually wearing these items.  That is because he refuses.  Not the coat, not the mittens, not the hat and definitely not the boots.  No, it's not because he hates things on his head or he gets too hot or he can't move with all that clothing on.  The reason he won't wear his brand new, cute as pie winter clothing is that they have fuzzies on them.  Yes, fuzzies.  You know, the kind of things all babies like to touch and cuddle up to.  Not my son.  Anything with a fuzzy on it is meant for the trash.

This would include all stuffed animals.  Now, what kid wouldn't like to play with this:

I have brand new, never played with stuffed animals that he got before he was even born. He refuses to have anything to do with them.  Poor little guy, I think he is actually afraid of fuzz.  Every once in a while I will get one of these cute creatures out to see his reaction.  He thinks it's torture. He runs away, cries, tries to hit them- anything to get rid of them.  I'm just sad I'll never get to take him to Build-A-Bear.

Unfortunately, I didn't think this would transfer to his clothing.  Now I'm going to have to replace all his new clothes with ani-fuzz coats, boots and mittens.  I better hurry.  Everyone knows that if my son isn't outside, he isn't happy.  He would rather run naked in the blizzard than put a fuzzy on.

Which brings me to today, Halloween.  My sister brought him the cutest little chicken costume that her son wore a few years ago.  We tried it on.  I mean we attempted to try it on.  Didn't get past his feet.  Now the chicken is sad:


What was I thinking? The whole thing is made of fuzz.  For Cash, the only thing worse than seeing a stuffed animal is actually being a stuffed animal.

So, trying to be a good mother, I went and bought him his very own pirate costume:


Not a fuzzy in sight.  Well, I don't think it's fuzzy.  But it is made of felt, which could feel fuzzy to him.  I'm nervous.  He might just go trick-or-treating with a plastic sword in his hand.  Wish me luck.

Have a great Halloween!

-posted by Lisa