Torture Rarely Works (A Valentine's Story)

Last night I asked Jackson, our three year old, about his day.  He said, "We bought you a long shirt." 

Jackson is definitely my favorite kid.  The other one would never divulge a golden nugget of secret information like this, probably because he hates me.  Or maybe because he can't talk yet.  In any case, this was a great piece of data for me to have.  It told me two things:

1. There is some sort of gift giving occasion nearing.  This might be a good time for me to remove my head from my anus, at least long enough to glance at a calendar and figure out, roughly, what season we're in.

2. I'm getting a shirt.  So assuming the gift giving occasion isn't within a few minutes of receiving this info, I should have time to purchase something shirt-level for someone else.

As the night wore on I grew more curious about this "long shirt."  My bride has purchased some, how you say, interesting clothing for me in the past, so I decided to interrogate the boy further. 

I chased him around his great grandmother's kitchen, scooped him up, and held him tight.  From the outside it looked like a loving embrace.  But I knew full well that, to a three year old boy, any cessation of movement while conscious is pure torture. 

ME:  What kind of shirt did you get Daddy?
JACK:  Down?
ME:  Was it a sweater, like this one?
JACK:  Daddy, can I get down please?
ME:  Does it have buttons? 
JACK: [struggling] I said please!
ME:  You can get down as soon as you tell me about this shirt.  Which store did you go to?

Jackson thinks and thinks -- he doesn't know the name.  This is good.  It means it's not from Target, Wal-Mart, Hobby Lobby, Home Depot, or King Soopers.  He knows the names of those stores.  I press on.

ME: Is it blue?
JACK:  No.
ME: Is it green?
JACK: No.
ME: What color is it?
JACK:  Um, I don't know.  Down?
ME:  Jackson, tell me the color and I will let you down.
JACK:  It's blue.
ME:  Oh yeah?
JACK: And green.
ME: Really?
JACK:  With socks on it.
ME:  Alright. 

See?  Torture doesn't work, even with three year olds.  As it turns out, Sarah gave me the gift this morning, and it's an orange sweater with no socks on it anywhere.

The kid is good.