Clueless

There are times when I marvel at just how clueless my husband sometimes is.

He woke me from my afternoon nap to tell me he was taking our daughter out to the Botanical Gardens for a couple of hours. I grunted an acknowledgement and was about to roll over to continue my journey into la-la land when a thought struck me. My eyes flew open and I asked;

‘What does N have on?’

‘Some clothes’.

‘I know that. Which ones?’ I retort rather forcefully.

‘Her brown trousers and a green T-shirt’

I did a mental scan of her clothes collection and couldn’t think of a pair of brown trousers she had that were worth going out in. Thankfully, my daughter decided to come upstairs to give me a good-bye kiss and I am so glad she did. I couldn’t believe my eyes when she walked into my bedroom.

My DH had dressed her in a pair of trousers two sizes too small, riddled with juice and playground bark stains, a green T-shirt which was riding half way up her belly and her rainbow coloured cardigan which for the life of me I couldn’t figure out how it fit in with the rest of the outfit. She looked awful.

‘Where you really planning to take her out looking like that?!’ I asked incredulously.

You see, what baffles me is that for 3 ½ yrs he has watched me dress our daughter up day in day out in clothes that I’d like to think are mostly presentable and sometimes even trendy so why, oh why, hasn’t he picked up a few things along the way? Then I realised that he doesn’t have a clue about her clothes. He probably thinks that the chest of drawers standing in the corner of her room houses my flower bulbs. It is amazing to me that he would rather take her out looking like she has been dragged through a hedge backwards than spend five extra minutes looking for clothes in her drawers that fit and match!

In the end, I had to get out of bed, rip off the offending rags that she had on and put her into more presentable clothes. And what did DH have to say?

‘Oh, that looks much better.’

Oomph!