Several weeks ago, my son took a bath. Yes, he has taken one or two baths since then, but the several weeks ago bath is the seed of the story I’m about to tell. After this particular bath, he went into this room to get dressed only to discover that all of his underwear were in the laundry.
“Uh-oh, looks like somebody’s going commando today,” I told him.
“What’s commando?” he asked.
“That’s when you put on your clothes, but you don’t wear any underwear.”
This idea did not appeal to him, so we waited to go about our daily business until some of his underwear could be washed.
About a week later, I came out of the shower to get dressed for work. My son was watching TV in my room. When he saw me pull out the drawer, he said, “Daddy, I don’t think you need underwear. You should go commando today.”
I’d like to assure any of my co-workers who may be tuning in that I did not take his advice. I’m prim and proper now, not like the old days.
Over the weeks, the boy has fallen in love with the phrase going commando. He has tried to adapt it so that it fits his own wild side. He would much rather wear underwear and no clothes than wear clothes and no underwear. In fact, I believe he would rather live completely naked than go about wearing clothes with no underwear.
At any rate, he rather enjoys running around the house and making a lot of noise, drawing attention to the fact that he is wearing only underwear. This is the action he has fitted to his new favorite phrase, going commando.
Boys his age go through their wild man stages. I don’t mind it, but I am a bit of a stick in the mud when it comes to language, even slang. I wish he wouldn’t insist on corrupting the meaning of going commando. I also wish he wouldn’t be so bi-polar in fluctuating between wild man and prude.
My carefree little commando can turn prissy on a dime. Last week, we walked to the playground. In spite having assured us before leaving home that he did not have to go to the bathroom, his first words upon reaching the playground were, “I have to go to the bathroom.”
There were no facilities within range. “Take him behind a tree,” my wife advised.
I led him behind a suitable pine and showed him the appropriate place. And do you know what that wild man, commando, tough guy asked me? He asked me this: “Why are you making me pee like an animal?”
He needs to work on his aim and generally improve his urination deportment a little bit before he can claim to be peeing like an animal, but I didn’t bother to tell him that.