Born Free

Adler seems to have a bit of a problem.  I'm not referring to his complete rejection of any vegetable or his problem hoarding dirty socks in the measuring cup drawer, however.

No, it seems that my sweet baby is something of a nudist.  

If it weren't for his inability to escape from the shackles of his zipped and snapped onesies and rompers, I think Adler would happily go about all of his daily business in the buff.

So yesterday, after enduring a serious case of Mommy guilt, I let him do just that.

We took the big boys to school and when we came home, I promptly launched into a flurry of dishes, organizing, and hunting for socks.  When I finally came up for air, I realized I'd made a neglectful error and hadn't changed Adler out of the very, very wet diaper he'd worn all night.  

As I dug through his dresser for the clothing pieces that most make him look like a miniature Ivy League fraternity brother Adler's favorite outfit, he gaped and fussed at me as though I wanted to drape him with poison ivy leaves and anthrax-coated shrouds.  But since the nineteen books I'd read and the enormous empire I'd constructed of Mega Blocks and Little People paled in comparison to the neglectful act of leaving him in a wet diaper, I turned up the heat in the house a bit, and let him run free.

As predicted, Adler went about his daily business.

He watched from the window for trespassing squirrels. 

He climbed on and leaped from every piece of furniture in the house.

 He spent some time developing a vegetable-free salad.  

Further studies are needed.

He read several books to himself, no doubt researching nude recreational areas in our state. 

And finally, after a few hours, he emerged with a pair of socks that materialized from some dusty corner of the kitchen, and I thought he had forgiven my earlier transgression and was ready to get dressed. 

 

Instead, I put the socks on him and he peed all over me. 

I guess forgiveness is hard to come by... And in this house, so are clothes.