When my son was young, some of the simplest tasks became a battle. It felt like the transition happened overnight. I’d read him a story, turn out the lights and wake up to a child who refused to wear trousers. These transitions never happened over a weekend when I’d have a second to adapt. As with all children, it is a parental dodge and weave to adjust to each child’s personality and needs.

Every morning, as I dropped my son off at school, I couldn’t help but notice the other children. They were dressed impeccably, like miniature adults. Elaborate hair bows, neatly buckled shoes and perfectly-zipped jackets adorned them. I couldn’t fathom how those parents managed to get their children to stand still long enough to style their hair. I was lucky if I could run a comb in the general area of my son’s head. It wasn’t a competition, but I did want my child to dress appropriately for the weather. My mantra became, “Pants are not optional.”

My initial approach was to plan ahead. We incorporated choosing the next day’s outfit into our evening routine. The next day he would change his mind. I tried waking him up earlier, but he wouldn’t get out of bed. I would see my deadlines whoosh by, school buses missed, and appointments cancelled all for a tiny dictator unwilling to wear clothes. Yes, I was willing to let him wear his pajamas, long before that was a popular option. He just wanted to be free-wheeling.

I understand that children have little control over their lives, and being able to dress themselves is a critical developmental stage. We also have other obligations and need to avoid daily arguments. I made sure his garments were easy to put on and take off: Velcro shoes, tee shirts and pull-on slacks.

Though what worked for me isn’t going to work for everyone, I finally figured out how to get my son to leave the house dressed for the elements. I appealed to my son’s competitive nature. We raced. I would have him count the clothing he would wear for the day. I would then count out the same number of pieces for myself. He’d start the countdown, and 3-2-1, we’d race to see who would get dressed first. We moved our competition to include other elements like helping get breakfast and making lunch. It wasn’t foolproof, but it helped him transition to the next stage. No, I did not let him win. I didn’t have to. I wasn’t in my Velcro clothes stage. We faced other battles as his independence grew, but he still talks about how much fun he had racing me to get to the breakfast table. Good luck with those morning challenges.