Wearing trousers, and rocking a pair of old-lady Daniel Green slippers!
"You're wearing pants", Mr. ETB noted as I came downstairs.
"Well of course I am, what sort of a..."
"Oh, yeah. Well I'm going for a root canal this afternoon."
"Well what if I pass out, or die in the chair and my skirt gets twisted? I don't want some pervert having a quick peek at my fanny."
Perfectly rational, no?
Alas, the appointment had to be rescheduled for tomorrow morning, so I'll need to drag yet another pair of trousers (er, pants) out of hibernation in the far reaches of the wardrobe. I really don't wear them often.
" Ma? If you die at the endodontist, how much should I sell your Dior hat for?"
Funny, the root canal is the least of my worries at this point, but I guess to a child it sounds scariest. I swear, he's already counting the money, that one.