Tag, you're it

I was reading "The Mommy Book" to Will the other night when he noticed a tag I'd forgotten to remove on his new GAP boxers.

Shout out to Sharon, whose keen consumer eye found these on clearance at the outlet.

Anyway, Will is uber-sensitive to tags and, of course, wanted it removed immediately.

I only had a few pages to go. It seemed a shame to stop, go get the scissors and then finish the book. So I kept reading, "Some mommies drive motorcycles, some mommies drive mini-vans ... Some mommies work at home, some mommies work in big buildings ... All mommies like to watch you sleep ..."

"Mommy? Can you get the tag now?" he asked. Only two pages to go ...

Major wiggles ensued. Major whining ensued. Will suddenly looked like he was laying on a pile of needles.

I stopped reading and started to yank it out with my hands when Will said, "Mommy, shouldn't we do this the correct way? With scissors?"

Have to admit, I was a little stunned by the sudden role reversal.

"Will, I'm fairly confident I can do this with my hands."

"Yes, but you might leave part of it or rip my new boxers. Please get the scissors."

Major sighing ensued (me this time). I got up to go get the scissors and heard this behind me ...

"Some mommies are grumpy ALL the time."