Earlier this year Liam got a couple of new jammies from Grandma Sue - nice, fleecy pajamas with feet, good for the oncoming winter. It's been getting colder here in St. Louis lately, so we put Liam in one of the new pajamas last night.
Five minutes later, I start hearing the familiar refrain of "Dad...Dad...Dad...Dad...Dad...Dad..."
That'll go on all night if I don't go see him.
So I walk into the bedroom, and Liam's standing in his crib, stripped down to his diaper, and the new fleecy pajamas are crumpled in a wad on the floor. Liam looks at me and points down to the forlorn little pile of new pajamas and says "Dad...those are not jammies."
"What?" I wasn't sure what he was talking about.
He pointed again. "Those are NOT jammies. Need some jammies on."
So I got some of his old Diego jammies and he wore those to bed.
Sorry, Mom. They ARE nice, though.
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