Bad Coat

The other day at Target, I saw a cute red fitted coat as we were walking out the door and I stopped to try it on.

"How do I look, Big Kid?" I asked.

"Like a fat woman in a red coat," he answered with a smile, without skipping a beat.

"Big Kid!! I am NOT fat! And you don't call people fat. Especially me. I'm not fat, Big Kid."

He laughed. "I just don't like the coat. I was kidding."

"That's the un-funniest joke you could ever tell a lady! This coat is not my size, by the way, it is too big. That's the problem, I am not the problem," and all weekend I teased him about calling me a fat woman in a red coat and how I may have to find a new oldest son since mine is so awful.

Today I dragged him to the Target across town and was delighted to find the coat in my size. This time he knew to stand there quietly while I hopped over to the mirror and tried it on.

"I look....like a fat woman in a red coat," I said sadly once I buttoned it up and assessed the situation.

Big Kid cracked up laughing. "I told you so!" He tried to compose himself and added, "But you're not fat, mom, it's just a bad coat. But I did tell you so," he was hardly able to hide his smirk. "Fat woman in a red coat" he whispered to himself while laughing.

Why did he have to be right? I like always being right and I really (thought I) liked that coat.