I have a theory; although, it is more than theory. After more than twenty winters, this theory has graduated to proven method. Put it to the test and you, too, will adopt the principle of what I call “the t-shirt theory.”
In 1988 I was a young mother with a newborn boy that seemed to be sickly from the time he was born. It was either ear infections or sinus infections or strep infections or respiratory infections for the first winter of his life. I believe I spent more time in the doctor's office than I did on the job. He was a happy baby and a good baby, but he was always sick. I believed that his sickness was just part of the day care experience, and I (we) would have to learn to live with it. So, I settled in and prayed for the day when his immune system would kick some germ butt and his health would compliment his demeanor.
Mrs. Ruby worked the baby room at Jack & Jill Day Care. I never knew her last name; she was just Mrs. Ruby to me and to all those babies she loved. I remember her face and her no-nonsense way of keeping young mothers like me straight. She didn't mince words and would let you know when she thought you were not properly taking care of your baby (a/k/a "her" baby). Don’t shortchange Mrs. Ruby on diapers, snacks, or bottles, because Mrs. Ruby would let you know.
After one of those numerous doctor's visits, I dropped off my baby boy at the day care on my way to work. While I told Mrs. Ruby that the doctor said he wasn’t contagious, his chest rattled and he sputtered green slime from both nostrils, and Mrs. Ruby just said, "What this boy needs is some t-shirts." Once she realized she had my attention she said, "Get some that will snap between his legs, otherwise, it's a waste of money. Bring a few extra in case he has an accident," and that was it. I had my marching orders. She took my baby boy and, like a good soldier, I marched to the department store and bought two packages of t-shirts to fit my little man.
He wore those "snappy" t-shirts for almost a year. We converted to regular t-shirts when he started potty training. Before he could wear out those first two packages of snappy t-shirts, he was a well baby. He wore those t-shirts day and night. They seemed to be a shield protecting him from all germs as he learned to crawl and walk. In time, it seemed he couldn’t get sick and our visits to the pediatrician involved more well baby visits than any others.
When I saw how well the t-shirt theory worked for my baby boy, I tried it for my own self. To this day, during three of the four seasons, I either don a t-shirt or camisole, and I can't tell you the last time that I had a cold, the flu, bronchitis, or any other head or chest cold. There's a lot of mysteries in life that I can't explain, e.g., electricity, gravity, self-propelled engines, and the t-shirt theory. Personally, I believe there is something special about the extra layer of clothing that is as tight as an extra layer of skin and completely unnoticeable to anyone. Somehow, there's some magic in cotton (or silk camisole) that insulates and protects.
My baby boy is a grown man today; he is will graduate from college this year. But, since that fateful day with Mrs. Ruby, my baby boy has worn t-shirts for at least three of the four seasons of the year. I think t-shirts just became second nature to him. Now that he is a grown man, I sometimes chuckle when I see him donning a t-shirt under another shirt--as if it is a fashion statement of some sort. I'm sure to him it is a fashion statement; to me, it's just confirmation that he will be well for another day.
Looking back, Mrs. Ruby saved me hundreds of dollars in doctor bills. I wish I could repay her, but she'd probably be insulted. So, instead, I've shared with you her wisdom (at no charge). She knew what she was talking about. She kept me and my son healthy for most of twenty years. And her secret was a simple t-shirt. I call it a miracle. You can call it crazy, but before you do, I encourage you to try the t-shirt theory.
