Picture this

Today is picture day at Mark's school. That, combined with the wet, rainy weather, has me a little worried.

Mark, of course, is thrilled. For him, it's a free dress day, which meant he immediately picked out his rattiest t-shirt and shorts to wear to school. I explained that yes, technically it is a uniform-free day, but the whole point is to wear nice clothes for the photos. That took the shine off of free dress day.

I actually thought picture day was on Wednesday, and I was planning to take him shopping tonight. So I panicked a bit about his wardrobe, which consists entirely of school uniforms, faded t-shirts and bloody skull-and-snake shirts, none of which I deemed appropriate to wear to school, let alone capture on film forever.

Instead, I braved his messy closet. He has some nice dress shirts I bought for our Alaskan cruise, but I knew there was no chance in hell he would wear a dress shirt and tie to school. (Might as well tell him to wear a "Please Beat Me Up" sign instead.)

But I found the next best thing -- a semi-dressy blue shirt. It had a Tony Hawk label, so I knew I could sell him halfway on that alone, but I needed some big guns to really clinch the deal.

"You can wear your blue Tony Hawk shirt," I said casually, and he disappeared without an answer. He reappeared moments later carrying a faded striped shirt that's seen better days.

"I'll wear this Tony Hawk shirt!" he said, happily.

I pointed out it was faded, which didn't bother him, and that he'd already been photographed in it before, which he hadn't (I'm not above lying to get a good school picture!). Finally, I just shrugged and said, "Well, it's pretty wrinkled," and he tossed in in the closet, disgusted. That kid hates wrinkles!

I let him toss out a few more suggestions before I returned to the blue shirt. He nixed it, and suggested some different t-shirts. I played along, negotiating back and forth, until I sensed the time was right to show all my cards.

"Tell ya what," I said slowly. "That blue shirt would look really good with your skinny jeans. If you wear the shirt, you can also wear the skinny jeans."

And we had a deal! Mark smiled, because he got to wear his beloved skinny jeans, and I smiled because I'd convinced him to wear the only nice shirt he has. I considered it a win on both sides.

Of course, there's no guarantee that his nice clothes will stay nice until his photo session. He regularly uses his shirt as a napkin at lunch. And there was just enough rain last night to mess up the playground, and potentially Mark's shirt (he comes home filthy every day). So I'm praying he'll be photographed before recess and lunch, before he has a chance to dirty himself up.

I also agreed he could pack an extra t-shirt -- I didn't want him to ruin his blue shirt wearing it all day at school. However, that was a gamble, because there's a 50-50 chance he'll wear it for his photo instead of the blue shirt.

Lots to worry about until I get those photos into my hands...

Tie one on

Today is Picture Day at Mark's school, which thrilled him because the principal proclaimed it a uniform-free day.

Uniform-free is code for "impending argument" at our house. To Mark, it means wearing whatever ratty t-shirt is his favorite this week (especially if it will be immortalized in a school photo). To me, it means carefully presenting other wardrobe options in such a way that Mark believes he thought of it himself.

"I'm wearing my Tony Hawk t-shirt!" he told me last night. "With my shorts." Both of these were part of last month's melted crayon/dryer experiment.

Before he could get any farther, I laid down the Picture Day rules. "No t-shirts or shorts," I said. "Your shirt must have a collar. But you can wear jeans."

He thought about it for a minute. "OK," he answered. "I'll wear my blue shirt."

I bit my lip. He voluntarily chose a blue button-down dress shirt? Could I really be so lucky?

I shrugged it off, answering casually, "Fine, if you want to." I did my best not to betray my giddiness.

The jeans were a little bit tougher. He refused to wear any, because they were "dumb." (No, I don't know what qualifies them as such, other than Mark declaring them so.) I found a pair of jeans handed down from Gillen, and he approved.

"Looks good," I said. He thought for a moment, and said, "Mr. Robinson said to dress like we're going to church." I thought, Uh-oh, now we're in trouble--he has no idea what that looks like!

Turns out, he did. We only go to church on Christmas Eve and Easter, and he associated both with a suit. "Can I wear my tie?" he asked. Keeping with the church theme, I almost answered, "Does the Pope wear a funny hat?" but realized he wouldn't know.

So I said, "Yes," and added, "Put it in your backpack when you take it off." We read a story about Pecos Bill last night, and how he turned a rattlesnake into a whip. I could just picture Mark whipping his tie around in a similar fashion.

I have no idea how to tie a tie, but luckily, it was already knotted, courtesy of my brother, Tim. He'd helped Mark with his blue tie at my grandfather's funeral. When Mark took it off, I left it loosely knotted, so he could slip it over his head and tighten the knot.

Unfortunately, Mark tried to put it on himself this morning, and unknotted it. I had no idea how to fix it. "But I want to wear it," he whined, when I suggested leaving it home.

I thought quickly. I knew there were instructions in his Dangerous Book for Boys, but we didn't have time to rummage through his messy bookcase.

"Mr. Robinson can tie it for you," I told Mark, grateful he had a male teacher. So we marched to school, tie in hand.

But Mr. Robinson wasn't in his room when we got there, and for that, I was more than a little relieved. I saved myself the embarrassment of explaining to him (in person) that I was a completely clueless mom, whose ineptitude will doom my son to a lifetime of dressing inappropriately casual at important functions (unless his uncles are there).

Or worse, wearing dress shirts and a Cub Scouts neckerchief, which uses a metal slide to hold it in place. Because that's so much easier than tying a tie--even I can figure out that one!