For Robbie’s birthday, my sister sent him an assortment of clothes, including a red windbreaker. He didn’t think much of it when the package arrived. After all, he’s a two-year-old. Toys and Elmo videos are at the forefront of his very existence. However, young Robert discovered the jacket this afternoon and brought it to me.
At first, Robbie just informed me that he had a jacket. Then there was the struggle of trying to put it on because this was a very special jacket: it has a “hat” (a hood to the rest of the population). Robbie was desperate to get his little body into the jacket and squirmed around until I finally had a second to get his arms through the sleeves. And, of course, we had to zip the jacket and make sure the velcro was all fastened. And, you guessed it, make sure the hood was on.
Robbie then ran around our bedroom shouting, “Oh, boy! Jacket!” with more enthusiasm than I’ve ever heard anyone give an article of clothing. After a few moments, he grabbed onto my leg and said, “Ready, Mama. I want rain.” Well, of course you do, sweetie. After all, you’re barefoot, in mismatched pajamas, and wearing a red windbreaker zipped up to your chin. Everything about you screams that you’re ready for the rain.
Robbie spent the rest of the night in his windbreaker. He ate dinner in it, managing to keep the mess strictly on his face. He brushed his teeth and washed his hands with it on. He listened to a story and said his prayers in the jacket. And, afraid that he might get hot, I tried to take the jacket off before putting him in bed. Robbie wanted none of it. He had me zip the jacket back up and fasten the hood over his head. And then he fell into a deep sleep. One I hope he stays in as I go up to unzip the jacket in hopes that he doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night, burning up.