James' Pajamas

James’ pajamas

James looked so cute in his little pajamas. Now, I know what you’re thinking. I’m one of those sick freaks who likes little kids and all that. It’s not like that at all. People are always thinking the wrong thing when the point is that kids just look so cute in pajamas; running around. Few look as cute as James did though when he had his pajamas on.

James would look cute just being a kid but in pajamas he was at his best. Running around. And, you see that’s what people miss, is that kids – and especially James – are so darn cute. In pajamas. Kids are so cute that they’re the only ones who are happy-looking anymore. Kids have it figured out knowing what's happy in life. But, I digress.

And there was James. Waking up, wiping his eyes. Sometimes he’d cry for his mommy, with his legs tangled in the sheet. She was a good mommy. She loved James, but even she missed how cute James was in his pajamas. And, sometimes, she miss it when James was just being James; pajamas or not.

Like I said, he’d cry and she come and untangle his legs, set him upright and he’d run around. He’d do everything he could do in those pajamas. Color, lay in the snow and make snow angels, go to the store or run around.

And that’s the point James didn’t care about the pajamas. They didn't stop him from doing anything. He didn’t put pajamas on and think – like we think – that he had to stay inside and have some reading time, drink tea and go to bed.

No. James would just run around and be okay with whatever. He looked so cute and didn’t care. We always care and James wouldn’t – that’s why he was so good just running around. In pajamas.

He’d stop for an instant and look at the Christmas tree, marvel at its beauty or maybe, just notice it was in the room. And then he was off again in those pajamas. He’d run down stairs and play with those toys his mommy told him to put away. Setting forward putting all his weight, arm straight on a matchbox car, he'd go to the races. James would always win.

He had a lot of pajamas but James had his favorites. No question. The blue ones with the feet attached and the soft inside were the best. He’d wear those all month if his mommy didn’t pick him up, kiss him on the forehead and strip him out of them. No, he’d have kept those on for eternity. Run around, jump on his bed before eating cookies and a drinking milk.

And, so his mommy would take those pajamas off of him and James would be naked except for his diapee, and then she’d put him in other clothes. But they weren’t those pajamas. And if James knew anything - he knew that. They'd load into the car and go to the store or his mommy would drop him off at school. He’d play all day and run around but it never meant as much until he was home and he had those pajamas on.

Because, that was when James was at his best. Running around. In pajamas. And he knew it.


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