newly-16 is sick in bed. If he stirs, I say, "if you're well enough to ________, you can probably go to school" As a result, he's trapped like a rat and must put up with these conversations.
me (holding Lands End catalogue points to the orange version of these.): Okay, tell me that when you're in charge, you'll outlaw pants like these on anyone older than five.
(the paper version has a cute model) him: They look good on her. Let me see that again.
me: But going out in public? In those? Did you look at them?
him (still gaping at model): Hmm?
me: You'd seriously allow people like me to wear them in public?
him: Oh, wait. They're not pajamas bottoms?
me: No, they're regular sort of pants. Capris, even.
him: Oh, ugh. Yeah, okay. Over five, they'd be shot. Although maybe not her.
me: That's good enough for my vote, I guess. They're fine for five year olds. And maybe ironic punksters-- those pants plus hair dyed to match and Doc Martens or something.
Boy (upon reading this): I never said I wouldn't shoot that model if she wore those out in public. Pajamas, okay. But out in public, I would have to. I'd even shoot you if you went out in those.
me: What do you mean even me? Especially me.
Next up, a gardening catalog and maybe some talk about plants. Also I have a nice knitting pattern book we could discuss. When the boys stay home sick, they're made to suffer.