Ties. There are two main kinds. Clip-ons and the kind you have to tie in a fancy knot. Which I, being a girl, do not know how to do. This is the conversation in my house after dinner last night:
"Dad, we're playing a joke on [sixth-grade teacher] and I have to wear a tie to school tomorrow," Jory says. "Where's my ties?"
My hubby looks at our oldest like he'd plumb fallen off his rocker. We are not responsible for the whysabouts and the wheresabouts of his things.
Jory runs off to find his ties, and comes back with a handful of Christmas ties and one orange-and-blue tie. All clip-ons.
"Aw, man!" he laments. "If I wear one of these I'll hafta wear a shirt with a collar!" As if wearing a button-down dress shirt to school is the absolute worst thing that could ever happen to him in his entire eleven years of living. Piffle. He puts on a dress shirt and tie every Christmas as his gift to me. (And yes I coordinate the color of his tie with the color of Elizabeth's dress and I tell him to be grateful she's not wearing pink.)
He then looks up to his father. "Dad?" he asks. "Do you have a tie-tie I can borrow for tomorrow?" Jory obviously does not want to wear a clip-on tie with a t-shirt. Who can blame the kid, really? Fashion police would be following him all the way to school, sirens blaring.
Hubby looks at Jory and with a straight face says, "Son, I think my tie-ties are too long for your neck-neck."
Meanwhile, I'm sitting over in my rolly chair trying to get lost in scrapbooking mojo, hear this, and start laughing so hard I almost fall off said rolly chair. The things said inside these four walls...I cannot make this stuff up. I really can't.
In the end, hubby finds a tie-tie for Jory to borrow, and helps him adjust it.