His underwear goes on his head.
So begins a poem by Jack Prelutsky, a wonderful, whimsical, playful poem that inspired my children, at the tender age of 4, to wear their underwear on their heads for an entire day. It was an unforgettable experience ... at least, for me.
My sons, now 11, have no recollection of that day 7 years ago when they decided to wear their briefs as bonnets while we ran errands. I, on the other hand, remember it vividly.
We had many stops to make that day — grocery store, post office, library, hardware store — and my kids maintained their makeshift lids through it all. I was tickled at first, believing it to be a delightful instance of creative expression, but my outlook changed over the course of the day as we encountered several people who were not nearly as impressed with my children’s ingenuity as I was.
Our first stop was Hannaford, where, in the produce section, a woman halted mid-melon appraisal to scowl — first at my innocent charges, and then at me, their irresponsible caretaker. She seemed to believe that I had dressed my children (or that I had allowed them to dress themselves) in an inappropriate and impertinent manner, and from the glares, the head shakes and the disapproving sighs she sent my way as my brood and I navigated the fruit displays, I’m fairly certain she wanted us to do hard time for our insolence. Or at least a few hours in the town pillory.
Thankfully, my kids, more concerned with stepping on only the dark floor tiles as we traversed the store, didn’t notice her scorn. Nor did they notice when a second woman, in the baking aisle, stared at us as though we had planned our shenanigans with the specific intent of affronting her — right there, right then — next to the spices and assorted cylinders of iodized and un-iodized salts. (“Are you ready boys? Here comes that lady we’ve never seen before. We’ll show her. Put your underwear on your head and ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ... GO!”)
I wasn’t sure exactly why these people were so offended by the presence of clean, freshly laundered underwear on my children’s heads, but what I did know was that I was exceedingly proud to be their mother. Because with each encounter, no matter how prolonged the glares or how pronounced the indignant sighs, my sons continued to go about their business, not noticing, and certainly not caring, what anyone might think of their head gear.
It’s a character trait they still possess today: rugged individuality, especially when it comes to their appearance. Both of them have long hair which frequently gets them mistaken for girls, and their pink and purple Crocs don’t exactly help when it comes to stereotypical methods of gender identification. But they don’t care.
When greeted with a cheerful, “Hello ladies,” upon entering a store, they smile and pleasantly reply, “Actually, we’re boys.” And as the shopkeeper flounders and apologizes, they add, “That’s okay. It happens all the time.” Then, just as they did that day in the grocery store, they go about their business, unconcerned and unaffected.
Of course, that day seven years ago there were a few folks who smiled, and one woman even stopped me to say how wonderful it was that I was allowing my children such freedom of expression. But the best reaction we received was from a man at ACE Hardware, who, upon noticing the extra briefs upon my sons’ heads, chuckled and exclaimed, “Now if I’d thought of that years ago, I could have saved myself an awful lot of time!”
I’m not sure exactly what he meant, but he was clearly amused, and possibly even inspired. After all, an extra pair of underwear disguised as a hat certainly could come in handy.
Hmm. I sense a new entrepreneurial endeavor in the making ...
Belinda Ray is a homeschooling mother and freelance writer who finds time to write when her children and their friends have lightsaber battles in the yoga room (but only if the laundry is already folded and everyone’s been fed).