I came home the other night to my husband holding a wriggling bun and laughing with mirthful confusion. "He was just taking off his clothes when I was feeding him. Has he ever done that before?" I had to admit he had. In fact, it seems that the high chair-clothing combination is not one that the bun appreciates much these days. Perhaps he's developing our ridiculous love of food but taking it to a whole new level, where it's not enough to merely appreciate the avocado for it's delicate flavor, but must experience it in all forms, including as a skin cream. *
The other night when I was feeding him, I turned around to prepare a little special treat (pear or cheese--something the bun eats with true gusto) and when I turned back, he was sitting with his shirt almost completely off, one sleeve giving him trouble. So I put it back on. He took it back off. I put it back on--I mean, it's winter, right?--and he took it back off. Finally I decided that it would just be easier to hose him down later without the shirt, so he ate like a tiny bathing beauty, glistening with pear juice and sticky raisins.
"Do all babies take their clothes off?" my husband asked again, after another round of strip-o-rama. "Oh, I think so," I said reassuringly.
I have no idea, really. At least he didn't strip in the middle of the restaurant on New Year's Eve. *There is also the possibility that he just wants to take an early stand against societal fetters. "I gotta be free, mama," he's saying. "I gotta let my freak flag fly, daddio, and no uptight long-sleeved shirt is going to define me."