"What is this," he demands and shows me the T-shirt in his hand.
I explain, "It's an undershirt we've been using as a jammie top for months. What is wrong with it?"
Apparently, this answer did not meet His Royal Highness' approval because the furrowed brow remained.
"Mom," he says, with a tone of annoyance. "Five year olds just don't expect this." He drops the shirt on the edge of the sink and exits the room in a huff...and shirtless.
|All it wanted was to be loved.|