Epiblogue: Now he looks like the Karate Kid
I usually don't question, because if it's genuinely just a quirk I don't want to give him a reason to dig his heels in deeper. In the case of the karate uniform, I wish I had.
Big Guy was sick the night he got the uniform and agreed to wear it only briefly. He dissolved into tears midway through class and we left early. He refused to put on the uniform for months afterward.
Until today when, still basking in the yellow-belt glow, he hasn't wanted to take it off. He agreed to change for baseball practice and reluctantly admitted that I was right when I said the jacket wouldn't work as pajamas.
"But it's so comfortable," he said. "Not like the first time I wore it, when it squeezed me so tight I couldn't breathe."
And then I got it. The day after the miserable class, he wound up at the doctor's office with a 104-degree temperature. It wasn't the uniform squeezing him; it was bronchitis.
Now if only I could figure out why he won't wear his baseball pants.
Copyright 2009 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.