Picture Day Scramble

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!"

Oy gewalt!