Today was picture day at my son's school. I reminded him the night before, and therefore expected him to choose an appropriate outfit to wear. I don't know what I was thinking, but asking a boy to choose an appropriate outfit is a bad idea.
He came downstairs, two minutes before we were supposed to leave, in his Krav uniform. (Krav is a martial arts form, for those who don't know.)
"Bubba," I said. "Your Krav uniform is very nice, but you should not be wearing it for picture day."
He frowned. "But I like it."
"Yes, I know. But this is for yearbook picture. Go find something else to wear."
He marched upstairs and came down with something else: A favorite t-shirt that was about two sizes too small.
I shook my head. "No, Bubba. That won't work, either." I decided to take matters into my own hands. I ran upstairs and pulled a nice polo shirt from his drawer. "Here Bubba, try this," I said.
He put it on and we ran out the door.
In the car, he noticed a little something on his shirt. "Mama, there's a spaghetti sauce stain here."
"Seriously?" I asked.
"Yes. You should've let me wear my Krav uniform!"