Christmas in July

The four year old has been wearing red and white striped footy pajamas all day long, and now, it’s almost bedtime, they’re too filthy for sleep, and he wants to take one last stroll outside in the rain before he turns in. He get’s his coat out of the closet, and says, “Mom, I need you to zip this. I don’t want to go outside looking like this.”


“Like what?”


“Like this!” It should be obvious what the problems is, but I’m flummoxed. Is it the pajamas, the coat-pajama combo?


He gestures at the zipper, “I can’t have my coat open.”


So I zip it up, and his ensemble is complete: red coat, zipped up, red footy pajamas, long skinny legs, out the door to play on a rainy July evening.

Litany of Days
The Pleasure of Watching a Camel Pass Through the Eye of a Needle
Overcoming the Agoraphobic Spiritual Life
Miracles Don't Happen If You Never Ask For Them
About Elizabeth Duffy