Uh Oh...Spaghetti-Os

Once again on this hot, sticky morning, our six-year-old dressed himself in thick sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. The torso wardrobe problem is partly my fault; he can't reach short-sleeved shirts to pull them off the hangers in his closet, and I've done nothing to remedy that.

As a result, this sort of thing has happened frequently this summer. Each time, I gently suggest that he might get too hot in the 90-degree temps and that perhaps he'd like to change. The response is invariably the same: eye rolling and arm waving accompanied by grunts of frustration and annoyance.

Today was no different. "I don't WANT to change. I always tell you that," he said. No kidding.

"Well, I just want you to be comfortable, honey. That's part of my job," I said.

He thought for a second, and then he said, "If it was really hot and I was a girl, I'd wear Spaghetti-Os," he said.

"Spaghetti-Os?!" I asked. "Like the food?"

He looked up at me. "You know," he said, tracing a line over each of his shoulders. "Those shirts with the skinny little things on them."

"Spaghetti straps," I said. "Not Spaghetti-Os. And I thought those were against the rules at Roosevelt School."

"They are," he said, "but it's summer."

My point exactly.