There has been no bloodshed yet…it’s more of a cold war.
The dawning of December has brought on the morning ritual of arguing with one little boy (Sam) about their choice of clothing.
Or lack thereof…
Children in Texas are accustomed to grilling Christmas dinner, keeping shorts in their drawers all year, and using hoodies as winter coats. But the new month brought cold weather, 40’s, and the fact that I am still seeing naked knees is killing me!
I have heard all of the excuses; the school is warm, the gym is hot, too rainy for outdoor recess, pants are dirty, and my favorite from their enabling father “He’s less likely to get sick if he stays a little cold.”
Guess that’s why we haven’t turned on the heater yet this year…but that’s for another blog.
The first few battles left me winded and traumatized. Now I dig in at the bottom of the stairs and wait for the approach…
Boom, Boom, Boom (the sound of feet running down the stairs)
“Go change.”
“But moooommmm…”
“No buts.”
“No. Mom. I have to tell you someth..”
“Authorization denied, go change. And you may no longer use the word no in negotiations.”
“Instead of…”
Ian is now yelling that he needs milk; that he hasn’t had anything to drink for over a week and is dying.  
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp (the sound of feet back up the stairs)
This is when I pack the lunches…
Boom. Boom. Boom (feet on second trip down the stairs)
“Those are just a different color of shorts!”
“My pants are dirty!”
Now Grant has decided that this very room has the perfect acoustics to practice his trumpet and we begin screaming to be heard over the sound of dying elephants.  
“There are clean ones on the dryer!”
“We are running in gym today.”
“Interesting. You know your legs still function when they are fully covered, right?”
“But my friend wears shorts everyday!”
“If all of your friends jumped off a cliff would you do it too?!”
“That depends. Are they being chased by a lion?”
“Samuel! You are crab-nuts-crazy if you think I am gonna let you leave this house with shorts on!”
“OK, I’ll just stay home today. Thanks mom!”
Thirty minutes later he walks into school wearing shorts….
I am the worst. soldier. ever.
But I’m cold and exhausted and outnumbered!
I need reinforcements! If only I had one of those matter-altering-laser guns. That way I could just send unmanned drones up the stairs for surprise attacks that leave him wondering how his shorts just morphed into fleece-lined denim jeans!
Maybe I’ll take another approach…
Law School.
I will now use all of this intense arguing as training for my son’s wealthy future. So the next time he fires up the guns I will repeat inwardly,  
Bring it on, momma needs a red jeep…