So, how about some clothing?
The Toddles looks down at his skin, and considers. He puts on some underwear, and appears to be satisfied. Behind him, looking to provide incentives, his mother opens a window.
Great! Underwear! Now, how about some pants?
The Toddles, having firmly declined the idea of clothing for the past two hours, indicates a continuing anti-pants position.
I have a compromise, he informs his mother, who has long since passed the primal scream phase, and is now considering craigslist. He takes his father's ancient sweatshirt, and ties it around his waist. It hangs to the ground, the sleeves trailing.
Behind him, the light gilds his skin, making it glow. Wrapping the sleeves around his shoulders, the Toddles looks calm, satisfied. Then - pauses - when a crisp breeze blows in from the window.
Well, he says thoughtfully, I just need something to cover the front parts of my legs.
Behind him, his mother grabs his pants. The Toddles notices, and looks at her pityingly. Not that, he says firmly, and stalks out the door. He will, his mother knows, spend the day in underwear and sweatshirt-cape. She picks up his kipa, and follows him.
Time to pick the battles.
*****Toddles jumps into bed between his parents, one of whom curls around him. Grins. Thinks for a moment, and then:
Help! Help! I'm being subducted!
the mama raises herself up on one elbow, and looks at the Man. Oddly enough, I think this one is your fault.
a few hours later, at bedtime....
mama, surveying a lump of blankets. A leg emerges, and is waggled by its owner. From under the blankets, a giggle can be heard.
That's one nice leg. Did you grow that yourself?
A head pops up. Nope. After all, I'm using YOUR genes!
Suddenly, I need some extremely dark chocolate.