Choice

My teenage son was at that rebellious stage when a parent's endorsement of anything is the kiss of death. So I was pleased he asked me to help him pick a shirt to wear to a party. On his bed were the choices: blue, white and beige.

　　"I like the blue one," I said.

　　"What's your second choice?"

　　"The white one."

　　"Thanks," he said and put on the beige shirt.