Why This Blog Is Shooting Me In the Foot

Last night, Gabriel said he wanted to go to bed.


At precisely 6:15 p.m.
On a day that he'd taken a two hour nap.


Knowing better than to delve too deeply into the mind of Gabriel, I told him to brush his teeth, get in bed, and I'd be up there in a minute.
When I got to him, he was tucked tightly under his covers, and something about the scene made my momradar go off.  I pulled the covers back a little, and found Gabriel clutching two...somethings...tightly.  I asked him to show me, and he revealed a couple of plastic soldiers.  No biggie there.  But what was up with the suspicious vibe?


That's when I noticed the lovely lavender ruffle 'round my son's neck.  
He was wearing his sister's bathing suit.  As pajamas.


I asked him why he chose this piece of clothing to wear to bed, and in typical Gabriel fashion, he shrugged and muttered something about "because it's what I like to wear".  
With a final command not to pee in his sister's bathing suit, I kissed him goodnight, and turned off the lights.


Weirdo.


This morning, a well rested, bathing suited Gabriel snuggled up next to us in bed.  Then helped make breakfast.  Than happily inhaled his breakfast.


Then, in between bites of scrambled eggs and blueberry bread, he cheerfully told his sister (who had been staring at him, first in alarm at his ensemble, then in growing indignation that it was her bathing suit that was suffering the wrath of poor table manners), that he wasn't "even wearing any underwear in her bathing suit.  Nope.  Not even one pair of underwear."


Bless his heart.


So then I thought I could document this very special morning in our lives, and let today's post write itself.

And while I did so, I thought about how Ken and I sometimes talk about taking in foster children when ours are older.  And I thought about how prospective foster parents are ideally run through a pretty vigorous screening process beforehand.  And I thought about how this picture would look to a member of the state.


Man I hope that if we ever foster children, the person who is in charge of our vetting process has a sense of humor.  And a Gabriel.


But I don't have high hopes for that second thing, since Gabriels are a rare bird.