A fashion plate he is not

So the change of season is upon us, thank God, as I was about to be institutionalized after my first winter indoors wit ha three year-old boy. They really are like puppies. If you don’t run them, they use their energy in destructive ways, like dumping their eldest sister’s meticulously organized Hello Kitty figurine collection on the floor.

With this change in season, comes my least favorite activity in the world – changing out the clothes. Little Man has outgrown most of his stuff and as I go through the hand-me-downs, I don’t have that much to buy, which I am grateful for because boys clothes? Suck.

Having spent the first five years of my parenting experience only shopping for girls, I never realized how hard it is to shop for a boy. There are so many styles to choose from for girls – feminine and frilly, Punky Brewster-esque, sporty – and your daughter can choose a different style each day and look adorable. For boys the choices are so limited.

There is Preppy Boy, outfitted almost entirely from The Gap and Brooks Brothers. He wears khakis and polos and bucks. This kid actually owns several belts and sweater vests. But how is this kid able to be a boy? Boys, by their nature are messy and kinetic. Chinos with a knife-like crease and a tucked in shirt do not seem like they would mix well with the jungle gym or a mud puddle.

Another choice is European/Asian Kid. His shirts are covered in non-sensical images, like made up sports logos that shout phrases like “WIN!”, “NUMBER 1 TEAM!” and “SOCCER!”, as if he is not a native English speaker and has no idea what they say. They are also usually paired with random sports images or pitcures of trucks and dinosaurs. Most of his shirts are striped, and not in a good way - in that French navy shirt kind of way. These shirts are OK when they are babies but as they get older, boys who dress this way begin to look like they should be wearing socks with sandals, wandering around times Square with a camera strung around their neck looking for the TKTS booth.

There is also Hip Kid. He wears cargos and henleys and anachronistic t-shirts, courtesy of his parents. Vans, which I actually like a lot for boys, are the shoe of choice. Hip Kid can be done on a budget at H&M and Old Navy, but JCrew’s Crewcuts is working hard to infiltrate this market, with carefully distressed khakis and button-downs. Which, eighty dollars for a boy’s shirt? Unless he’s The World’s Youngest Paid Intern at Merrill Lynch I’m not buying. I enjoy Hip Kid, and while LM parents have not one molecule of hip in their tragically dorky bodies, he has several faded Star Wars t-shirts and many pairs of cargo pants.

The other style I can identify is Sporty Kid, which I guess is what LM is. These kids wear track pants and t-shirts and pretty much nothing else. Winter means putting a long-sleeved shirt under the short-sleeved one, but the combo is essentially the same. His shoes are sneakers from Payless because, despite your idea that Stride Rite sneakers must last monger for all they cost, he manages to run through every pair your put on his feet in no time. When I was a teacher, I used to judge Sporty Kid’s parents, wondering how they let their kid run around looking like half a hobo in baggy sports attire, but now that I see, up close, what little boys do during their waking hours, I would like to extend a formal apology.

I’m sure you can all add some other style you have ID’d to the list, but these are the ones I see the most in the suburban Northeast. It’s so hard, trying to dress a boy, when none of these styles seems to really be him, and it seems there is lack of fluidity in style among boys. Your son tends to be one kid of kid or another, not one or another on alternating days like my girls are. One day, #2 is sporty and hip in her yoga pants and Wonder Woman t-shirt, the next, she is school-girl sweet in a collared dress and tights.

New to the equation is that fact that LM actually has an opinion now. The track pants thing is not of my doing, since I feel men in track pants who are not about to, or have not just finished, exercising look like they belong in a bar in Lowell. But he’s comfortable, and the way he wants to dress allows him to run and jump and roll all over the floor to his heart’s content.

I had always envisioned my son dressing like a miniature version of his father on the weekends - jeans and broken-in khakis, and relaxed button down shirts - and maybe that will be the case one day, but for now, try as I might, I can practically see him trying to explode out of with his sheer boy force the minute the last button is done.

So just like with the girls, I will let him develop his own style and his father will guide him the best he can. I say his father and not me, because, at times, even my tastes is suspect. Like the bright-blue striped shirt wit ha yellow submarine I bought at Target. H saw it on him the first time and said, “Um, is his name Yuki?”