It Has Come To This

I was bringing The Eldest Child to guitar lessons at nine this morning, but about half-an-hour before we left the house:

Eldest Child: I think it's time to leave, but you're not going out that way, are you Dad?

Me: That way? What way?

Eldest Child: Change your clothes!

Me: Change what? What's wrong? What's wrong with my t-shirt and shorts?

Eldest Child (to The Wife): Mooommm! I can't make him change his clothes! Make him change his clothes!

Me: What?! What?! Barely two months after turning thirteen and you're already embarrassed to be seen with me?!

The Wife: Change your clothes.

Me: What?!?!?!?!

The Wife: Change your clothes.

Eldest Child: You look like you just rolled out of bed!

Me: It's the middle of summer! I want to wear this (and I pointed to my extra large t-shirt, loose shorts, and sandals).

The Wife: Your shorts and shirt look old already.

Me: They're comfortable! I don't have any newer pair of shorts! I don't want to wear slacks!

The Wife: Change your clothes.

Eldest Child: Yeah!

The Wife: Change your clothes.

Me: I don't want to! It's hot!

(Youngest Child walks in, rubbing eyes, freshly risen from bed)

Youngest Child: Where are you going, Dad?

Me: I'm bringing your sister to guitar lessons.

Youngest Child: You're not going out that way, are you?

Me: (sighs) All right! I give in! I'll wear slacks.

Eldest Child: Good. You should hide your hairy legs from the world, Dad.

Me: (gets fresh slacks and a collared shirt from the closet, grumbling and mumbling)

It has come to this.