Yesterday I picked out clothes for Jack after his bath. I was pretty excited because I chose some nice tan cuordoroy pants and a nice, pale blue and tan, plaid shirt that buttons up. I just knew he was going to look super handsome. He put on his pants without argument but began to pout as I buttoned his shirt. "I wanted to pick out my own shirt."
"But I already got a shirt for you and you look good, man." I countered, but the look on his face told me it was more important to him than it was to me. Still I was disappointed. "Okay," I said as I began to help him get off his shirt, "but will you wear this shirt another day for me? I think you look really nice in it."
"Yeah," Jack obliged, "I'll wear it on your birthday,"