Walking In Another Person's Shoes

Taylor is getting tall.  Over 5'11 now, he is almost looking me straight in the eye.  (In fact, if he's wearing shoes and I'm not, we're virtually the same height.  He, of course, loves this.  All 120 pounds of him.  Keep eating, my son.  Keep eating!)  The shoes he is wearing at this point are often mine.  That's right, my 14-year-old son often borrows my size 13 shoes.  He prefers to use his own athletic shoes, but I often find him sporting my flip flops or dress shoes.

On Sunday he had worn black pants and black socks to church along with a pair of my black shoes.  After church he came home and changed into something more comfy: basketball shorts and a t-shirt.  He kept the black socks.  Later in the day he needed to go outside for something.  The closest shoes were my dress pair he had worn earlier.  When he came back inside, I looked at him and said:  "OK, you can wear my shoes, but never, ever let me see you in shorts, black socks and black shoes.  It is a horrible look under all circumstances!"

He humbly agreed to obey my edict and shuffled off to my closet to return my footwear.  About four minutes later he came back out wearing a shirt I wore 10 years ago in Hawaii and a big goofy grin on his face.  "How do you like me now?" he said: