There’s nothing like parenthood to humble you over and over again. The subject of tonight’s episode: L’s pajamas.

I’ve documented in this blog (and elsewhere) how hard it was for me to overcome my fears about (hurting my daughter’s head so as to make her stupid and) mastering the science of onesies. I’m sure at some point, I’ve also mentioned my trouble getting the little critter into sweaters and hats and other items of clothing designed to keep her warm.

In all of these cases, I’ve managed to get comfortable by watching Powergirl and studying how she does it (effortlessly, I might add). One task I had never witnessed before tonight: the putting-on of L’s pajamas.

“They’re pajamas!” you say. True, but when you are a spaz like I, they might as well be a corset.

Tonight, I was prepping L for bed when a poop explosion necessitated a change of pajamas (Powergirl had put on the original pair). My wife was working, and I didn’t want to disrupt her. So I tried to do the pajama thing myself.

What ensued was a sick spin on the Hokey Pokey. I put one of her arms in, the other arm popped out. I put one of her legs in, the other leg popped out. On and on we went like this for roughly ten minutes. By the time I had sweat through my shirt in both armpits, I figured it was time to call for reinforcements.

Powergirl came in and had the PJs on in a matter of seconds. Her technique: she buttons up the pant legs, slips them on, then pulls the remainder of the PJs underneath L and slips the arms in quickly, without hesitation.

I admit: for someone who usually gets the knack of stuff easily, the whole notion of learning how to dress my kid is pretty emasculating. Still, L isn’t going anywhere, and I’ve got to figure it out.

I’m sure it’ll take me a few dozen times with this ritual to feel comfortable doing it solo. Am I daunted? A little. But you better believe I’ll be ready with PJs at bedtime tomorrow night, ready to try again.