Somebody call CPS!

To any of you in the mid-Atlantic area who felt that sonic boom at about 6:00 a.m., I apologize. Those agonizing screams cut through the air, paralyzing everyone for miles and miles! Lil Joe wailed and wailed, barely catching his breath long enough to bellow my name "Maaaaahm-meeee! NOOOO, dat's not riiiiight!" What exactly did I do to cause such torment? I put his blue shorts on him. I had first tried to put the tan shorts on, and he pushed them away vehemently and repeatedly. I gave him a choice between the two pairs of shorts, and he threw himself on the bed and refused to look at me. He batted away the blue shorts, but threw the tan, they offended him so. As we were already running late, I exercised my parental prerogative and and wrestled him into the blue shorts. And then Hubby and I witnessed a meltdown the likes of which has not been seen since the Three Mile Island incident. Lil Joe was so furious with me he was barely coherant. So Hubby took over the clothing duty. And what ultimately calmed the savage beast? The tan shorts.