Little Feet And Long Pants – The Struggle

My six year old usually dresses herself.

My four year still needs a little help.

And pants are always tricky.

Or should I say that feet, feet are always tricky.

Little feet to be exact.

There’s just something about them.

With their incessant stickiness.

Their sweatiness.

Their clamminess.

And their complete lack of regard and straight up oblivious nature.

Like every day.

Every morning.

Without fail.

It’s like it’s all brand new.

This idea that they need to point themselves downward when diving into the never-ending dark tunnels.

The extensively long and narrow hallways of garment.

And it’s funny because it’s not like you don’t know how to solve the predicament.

You do.

You know exactly what works.

But instead you choose to skip it entirely.

You choose to gamble.

Because taking that extra 30 seconds prior to.

Taking that time to fish and thread the entire line of pant leg into your hands, just seems too hard some days.

In fact, it’s excruciatingly difficult other days.

So instead you try for a miracle.

You try because the pant leg looks wide enough.

You try because you remember that yesterday those little appendages briefly cooperated and sprinkled you with a glimmer of hope.

You try because today could be different.

You try because today is a new day.

But then, as they are almost all the way through, you remember.

That regardless of anything.

They always get stuck.

Every.

Single.

Time.

And as you look down.

As you see that foot perfectly jammed, almost completely horizontal in the fabric.

With toes stretching and piercing themselves outward towards the side.

You breathe in deeply, and blindly try again.

Too tired to direct the foot and toes completely.

Just hoping that if you look away long enough, and hold your breath, while simultaneously tugging in one direction or another, that something magical will happen.

It’s the longest seconds of your life.

And it feels as though it will never end.

Until all of sudden.

Just like that.

Miraculously.

They somehow find their way through.

They have indeed made it to the other side.

And as they start to see the light.

As those little toes start to peek out from beyond the darkness.

And as you start to compose yourself and begin to settle the flustered flurry that surrounds you.

They somehow start to look cute again.

And as you sit in that glorious feeling of relief, just for a brief moment.

You think to yourself.

Until tomorrow, my friends.

Until tomorrow. 

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