All parents are familiar with that sound. It is a distinct sound. It is a sound that warms my heart. It is a sound that I am listening to, right now.
Pad-pad-pad-pad-pad-pad-pad-pad-pad-pad-pad.
Ahhhhh.... the sound of covered little feet, scurrying about in footed pajamas. There's nothing like it. The actual sound my vary from child to child, due to texture and size, but the feeling remains the same.
I remember wearing footie pjs. However, footed pajamas of the 1980s were basically made of steel wool and the plastic always seemed to be hanging off of the bottoms of mine, providing no grip whatsoever. So, I probably sounded more like, pad-flop-pad-flop-pad-flop-pad-flop-THUD, as I ran (and fell) throughout our house. Fortunately, now that I have had children, the manufacturers of footie pajamas have started making them out of 100% Cotton. They also created rubber-like gripies on the bottoms of the feet, instead of poorly gluing heavy plastic socks to the suits, as they did with the ones I used to wear. Itchy or not, I still loved my footie pjs. As my mom would zip me up, I felt like she was putting me into a superhero suit. I'd tuck my boobah (my blanket), into the back of my neck to act as my cape, and I'd zoom down the hall to save the universe. Good times.
I've longed to buy a pair for myself, now, as an adult. I am pretty sure that if I pin myself down into a sports bra, I can squeeze into a size 14/16. My husband always responds to this idea with a very stern, "Absolutely NOT," which I think is extremely unfair. It's been pretty cold lately. He may just find a surprise under the covers in a few weeks.
My love of footie pajamas has gone so far, I tend to wear them on my boys year round. It's not uncommon in our house to go into their rooms on an August morning, to see a sleeping half naked child with a sweaty pair of pajamas crumpled on the floor, next to the bed. Michael says that I'm going to suffocate them. But I fail to see how something as lovely as a pair of footed pajamas would do any harm to a child.
I think that the appeal lies in the fact that they make a child look younger. Footie pjs are something that they wore as babies, that they still wear as children. They grow out of the bunting nightgowns, they refuse to wear cute hats, and before you know it, you pick them up and that familiar crinkle of a diaper under their bottoms is gone. But when I zip them into a footed suit, and fold them into my arms, they become my snuggly soft babies all over again.
I once said that I wish I could bottle up the smell of my children after a bath, put it around my neck, and wear it for always. It brings me such joy to get my boys out of the tub, slather them in Johnson's baby lotion, and dress them for bed. The other night, after their bath, the boys padded down the hallway with their boobahs tucked into the back of their necks, off on yet another mission. I wish I could bottle up their smell. I wish I could freeze that moment to have with me all of the time. The thought of them growing older, no longer believing that they are superheroes, and refusing to wear footed suits to bed, is devestating. Hopefully, though, it will be a few more years before that happens. For now, I am going to be sure to take advantage of every moment, while they are still my snuggly soft boys.
Our area was blanketed with ice last night, and the storm is to continue until tomorrow afternoon. The National Weather Service has advised against all unneccesary travel. The boys and I are going to cuddle up on the couch and watch movies all afternoon. Oh, and I have decided that today is going to be a Pajama Day. All Day. I've got to enjoy this time while I can.
"Now all around the room in one big line, wearing our pajamas and looking so fine. It's Pajama Time!" - Pajama Time, by Sandra Boynton
