Barbarians Hate Underwear

One morning I was trying to get the little kids off to the bus.  WildBoy was being difficult.  He wouldn't get dressed.  Finally, I yelled at him enough that he went downstairs to put on some clothes. 
"Remember to put on underwear!"  I shouted down after him.
"Awww!" He complained.  "WHY?"

("Underwear is for losers, Mom.")

I don't really have a good answer for that.  To be honest, I don't give a shit whether WildBoy (or anyone) wears underwear, or even clothes.  Although he accepted my, "Everyone needs to wear underwear to school, honey" answer, what I really wanted to tell him is, "The world is stupid.  Underwear is stupid.  Wear (or don't wear) what you want, and don't listen to anyone who thinks it's weird!"  But, I didn't, because sending WildBoy to school without clothes would have gotten me arrested. 

You may attribute this hatred of underwear to his liberal upbringing.  And maybe that's partially true.  Since I don't give a shit whether my kids wear clothes at home or not, WildBoy spent the first 4 years of his life mostly sans clothes.  When clothes were practical (or on outings), we would wear clothes.  At home, we mostly wouldn't.  So when he finally went to preschool, WildBoy had a bit of a difficulty understanding why he couldn't just take off his pants when he was uncomfortable or hot.  Surprisingly, I only got 2 calls from the teacher about it before he learned that clothes have to stay on in school.

But his upbringing alone doesn't account for it.  As a child, I was raised in a strictly clothing-required household, and I hated underwear.  I hated underwear with a passion.

("Guess who's wearing underwear, Mom?  Not me!")

One day, my parents took me to church.  This was not surprising, since I grew up in a family that went to church every Sunday (and on Wednesdays during Lent and Advent).  They sat in the front pew (for an unknown reason- possibly so I could see what's going on), but soon realized that was a mistake.  I started bouncing up and down on the pew, and, since I was wearing a cute little Sunday dress, they soon got a horrible realization.  I wasn't wearing any underwear!  And I was jumping up and down on the front pew at church... My cute little dress swishing up and swishing down as I jumped... and when it swished up, the pastor got a very surprising view!

("I don't know about you guys, but I'm having fun.")
On another occasion, our family decided to go on a picnic.  I absolutely refused to wear underwear to the picnic.  Getting fed up with it, my mom finally asked me, "Do you want to wear your underwear on your bottom, or on your head?"  I just pouted in reply, so my mom put underwear on my head.  How humiliating!  To have to put the hated garment on my head! 

 ("This is the worst torture ever!")




So, I pouted with underwear on my head for a long time before I finally consented to put it on my bottom.  My exasperated mother won that battle, and we went on the picnic fully clothed.

That was my childhood in a nutshell.

Fast forward to that fateful day when WildBoy refused to wear underwear.  I told him he had to wear underwear, so he went down to get dressed.  A minute later, he came upstairs... with the underwear on his head!  Unlike me, he wasn't pouting, but grinning ear to ear.

 (Maybe he saw Misha Collins doing it and thought it was cool.)




"I have the underwear on, Mama!"  He said in his sing-song "I'm playing a joke on you" tone.  Then he proceeded to jump on the bed, sans clothes, except for the underwear on his head.

Sigh.

My children are just like me.  HELP!