By Charlene Pinnock
If I had a dollar for every time I’ve said, “Marcus, please put your pants back on,” I could probably fund an entire sensory-friendly clothing line by now.
There are days when my son will take off his pants, his boxers, and even his shoes within minutes of coming home—or sometimes right in the middle of the day. His shirt? No problem. He’ll keep that on. But the rest? It's like his body just can’t take it.
And while some people may laugh or brush it off as quirky behavior, for me as a mother—it’s a constant, exhausting struggle.
Let’s get one thing clear: Marcus isn’t being rude or “fresh.” He’s not trying to embarrass me or act out.
This is sensory.
Children on the autism spectrum often have heightened sensitivities to how things feel on their skin. The seams, the waistband, the tags, the tightness around the legs—things most people can ignore feel like sandpaper or a tight grip to our kids.
For Marcus, pants and underwear are uncomfortable, sometimes even unbearable. It’s not something he can explain. It’s something he feels in his body.
Getting ready to leave the house can take three times longer than it should. I’ll put his pants on, and the moment I turn my back, he’s wriggled out of them like a little escape artist.
There have been public moments—times I’ve had to run after him with pants in hand. Times when he’s tugging at his clothes, shoes flying off, while I try to stay calm and patient.
And I’ll be honest—some days, it gets to me. I feel judged. I feel frustrated. I feel tired.
But then I remind myself: he’s not doing this to frustrate me—he’s trying to be comfortable in a world that often overwhelms him.
This has been one of the harder challenges to manage, but here are a few things that have made a difference:
Even with all this, some days nothing works. And on those days, I just do my best and try not to take it personal.
If your child fights you every morning to get dressed, if they strip down the minute you let your guard down, if you feel like no one understands what you’re going through—I see you.
You are not alone.
You’re not a bad parent.
You’re not doing anything wrong.
You’re raising a child who experiences the world differently.
And just because your child doesn’t want to wear pants, doesn’t mean they aren’t growing, learning, or thriving.
This journey isn’t always picture-perfect. Sometimes it’s bare-legged, barefoot, and holding on by grace. But through it all, I remind myself that Marcus is communicating in his own way—even through what he chooses to wear (or not wear).
Some days, pants win.
Other days, Marcus wins.
And you know what? That’s okay.
Because we’re not aiming for perfect.
We’re aiming for peace, comfort, and understanding.