(no subject)
What They Don’t Tell You About Footy Pajamas
The worst feeling in the world is being scared. Everyone experiences it and everyone has ways of dealing with it. Some people scream, some people cry, some people become hermits, and some people kick and punch…it’s all in how you approach it.
When some people are scared they call a friend, call the cops, hide under a table, maybe make a list of what’s bothering them…
For me, I feel safest in footy pajamas.
There is no place in the world more safe than footy pajamas, namely the fleece ones that zip from your ankle to your neck. When you’re three years old and there are monsters in the closet and there’s thunder pounding on the roof, there is nothing more soothing than being in your warm bed cuddled up in the safety of flannel footy pajamas knowing that mom is in the room right down the hall, the door has been carefully not-quite-closed, there’s a half-drunk glass of water on the small table next to your bed, and your Rainbow Brite nightlight is plugged in next to your dresser.
No officer who raids a party-gone-bad can have that effect on a person, no table is big enough to make you feel that secure under it, and no list of problems is going to feel that warm. I think the world would be a better place if they made footy pajamas in everyone’s sizes. It would get rid of the fear that is so deeply imbedded in all of our lives. I doubt that terrorists own any, and maybe their mothers didn’t dress them in footy pajamas when they were kids. That settles it. More flannel yields lower crime rates.
The worst feeling in the world is being scared. Everyone experiences it and everyone has ways of dealing with it. Some people scream, some people cry, some people become hermits, and some people kick and punch…it’s all in how you approach it.
When some people are scared they call a friend, call the cops, hide under a table, maybe make a list of what’s bothering them…
For me, I feel safest in footy pajamas.
There is no place in the world more safe than footy pajamas, namely the fleece ones that zip from your ankle to your neck. When you’re three years old and there are monsters in the closet and there’s thunder pounding on the roof, there is nothing more soothing than being in your warm bed cuddled up in the safety of flannel footy pajamas knowing that mom is in the room right down the hall, the door has been carefully not-quite-closed, there’s a half-drunk glass of water on the small table next to your bed, and your Rainbow Brite nightlight is plugged in next to your dresser.
No officer who raids a party-gone-bad can have that effect on a person, no table is big enough to make you feel that secure under it, and no list of problems is going to feel that warm. I think the world would be a better place if they made footy pajamas in everyone’s sizes. It would get rid of the fear that is so deeply imbedded in all of our lives. I doubt that terrorists own any, and maybe their mothers didn’t dress them in footy pajamas when they were kids. That settles it. More flannel yields lower crime rates.