So Blair gets out of the shower this morning, walks into the bedroom and stands in front of his closet. "What to wear, what to wear..." he mutters.
He stands there a few minutes and I watch him, waiting to see if he pulls out the striped shirt, the dark blue shirt, etc. Finally, after staring into the closet, he makes his decision.
"I think pants," he says, and reaches in and pulls out a pair.
I burst out laughing. "Are you sure?" I ask. "Because you've got the legs for skirts."
"Mm, true," he says. "But I don't like to just put it out there."
It's almost impossible to have a bad day when you start off laughing.