I'm absolutely fine with Samuel dressing himself in weird toddler outfits and going out in public (case in point, the snow boots he insisted on wearing to the grocery store this morning, despite the sweltering heat). Maybe this is because I subconsciously view his inability to dress himself appropriately as a natural consequence of having me as a mother. My 'style' *snort, harumph* has alternately been described as 'simple', 'classic', and 'heavy on the black'. I would like to think that this means I look even a teeny tiny bit like a Hepburn, but I know darn well it means I don't own clothes I can't nurse in and wash in very hot water if necessary.
So he can wear whatever he wants to when it's my shift. It doesn't bother me in the slightest if I get The Look from sundry well-appointed middle aged people carrying a $12 can of organic apple juice up and down the aisles and raising their genteel voices to their life partners. Meh, whatevs, you know?
What does really super duper bother me when we're out in public is when I get commentary on aspects of parenting I do consider fairly important. Like food and water. Samuel spent half our shopping trip today complaining that he wanted a drink. He complained enough, in fact, that I spent $1.50 on a pack of juice boxes and gave him one. He took two sips through the straw (those dratted straws, who invented that?) pulled it out, put his mouth to the the hole and tipped his head back, slurping noisily.
I ignored him. Because I knew that that was nowhere near as bad as his behaviour could get in this situation, and I like to pick my battles. But one person walked by, looked at Samuel, and said something along the lines of "he's thirsty!" and kept walking. Ok, ok, maybe I'm really sensitive, but yes, I KNOW he's thirsty, and look, I'm giving him something to drink! Don't give me that comment, as though my dehydrated child is wilting at my feet while I ignore his cries.
Why don't you just comment on the boots?
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