The Robe

Some people are robe-people. This means that they wear robes. My parents are both robe people. I still remember when I was growing up that my father's robe was a dark, dark navy blue with white pinstripes and my mother wavered between a blue terry cloth and a white terry cloth with small flowers on it.

When I was in college, my dad bought me a robe. I still have it, and I wear it a lot in the winter. It is red, and fleece, and the only problem with it is that I feel like I should be shuffling around in faded fuzzy pink slippers and smoking a cigarette.

It's a cozy robe, but it makes me feel a little frumpy. Sometime around the arrival of Dominic, I purchased myself a different robe. A dressing gown, if you will. It is white, cotton, breezy, 3/4 sleeves, mid-thigh...it is from Target. And it makes me feel like I should be holding an alcoholic beverage at 9 in the morning. Or maybe like I've just been released from a swanky rehab facility. And I'm not going to lie...there are mornings where I'd really like that sort of beverage, and weeks where rehab sounds like a vacay.

I keep these robes, and continue to wear them, partially because they are so dang comfy and it's handy to have something to toss over my pretend pajamas (tank top and yoga pants always) but I realized the other day there is another, deeper reason.

My children need me to wear these robes. I'm serious. Part of the memories of my robe-wearing parents is that my brother, sister, and I would steal the belts that belonged to the robes and transform them. They became lassos and halters and ninja headbands and implements with which to tie things to other things...hours of creative fun could be had with these robe belts. We got into some trouble with the belts....like if we used them to tie each other up, or used them to tie doorknobs together, rendering the occupant of the room unable to leave...but mostly, they inspired creativity of another dimension. Playsilks ain't got nothin' on robe ties.

So here is my plan. I am going to get rid of about half of the toys we own. And buy some more robes. With belts. That's all children need. Robe belts. Brilliant, right? Then, I'm going to market them en mass, and make a lot of monies. I'll probably get a book deal, and a large federal grant in order to study the incredible spatial, psycho-social, cognitive, emotional, etc etc effects that robe belts have on the young child's developing brain.

Then, I'll----oh. My Master has arisen. He demands a snack, the baby pool in the back yard, and that I fill his insatiable need for more water balloons. Ah well, duty calls. At least I have these comfy robes to don as I go about my day.