Last night at Awana, the boys had Wacky Tacky night. It's simple: wear-whatever-you-want night.
The rules: There are no rules.
I don't know about your kids - those of you who are raising them alongside of me and those whose kids are now grown - but my kids would like to live in a Wacky Tacky world. When it comes to clothing, they'd like no rules. Every day.
In my house of all boys, I'd be running a nud.ist col.ony if I let them run the show. Truly. Clothing would be banned. Period. (Is this a boy thing? Cause I don't remember the little girls I nannied ever begging to run around buck nekked.)
I'm not too much of a stickler when it comes to what my boys wear. To school. To church. Anywhere, really. It's just not a battle I choose to fight. Dressing appropriately for weather and occasion? Yes. Important. What goes with what and striving to gain my own personal accolades or approval from others when it comes to the clothing on my kids? Not important to me at all.
So, when last night came around - the long awaited for Wacky Tacky night, my boys got to use their clothing to just...well...be them.
Whoever they wanted to be.
Offered the same options, same clothing bins, same closet and dresser, they chose their outfits.
And, you know what?
Max is exactly who we think he is.
Little bit gangsta.
Up to somethin'.
And, Jack is exactly who we think he is.
Little bit quirky.
Look at me.
Look out, world.