Jammie's, PJ's, pants, shorts, t-shirts and skivvies, nightgowns, unmentionables, ooh la la or footies, whatever you wear, pajamas are an important part of the day. For those with outside jobs, pajamas symbolize the glorious end of the day. For we stay-at-home moms, they sometimes are our only reminder that we forgot to shower today.
For my childrenthough, they have many different meanings. My daughter who is both quite contrary and often convinced she is a princess, loves changing clothes. To her, her pajamas are the clothes in her dresser that she can reach. To me, her pajamas are what she puts on to spite me and slow me down when we're trying to go somewhere and are running late. She mostly sleeps in her diaper and whatever bit of clothing that managed to make it to bedtime.
My son is a completely different story. On nights between baths, he sleeps in his clothes. He hates his pj's. Hates them. This is a kid who is afraid of his skull and crossbones underwear, but still I see no threat looming from his Batman pajamas. Granted, they lost a lot of their cool factor by not having a cape, so I suppose that is warranted. If I even suggest that we might want to maybe start thinking of putting on pajamas, a noise erupts from him that is somewhere between hurt little girl and a banshee.
I used to worry about their weird Jammie attitudes, their jammatudes if you will, but really, how are pj's that much different? Who says you have to sleep in pajamas? At least that's what I'm telling myself today.
