What Not to Wear

Adam: Mom, I can't get my jacket off.
Me: Adam, it always comes off easier if you unzip it. It's not going to fit over your head like that.
Adam: I can't unzip it.
Me: Why?
Adam: I shut the zipper slide in my locker door and smashed it a little.
Me: How did you get it zipped up?
Adam: I don't know.
Me: Okay, let me see if I can help.

I pull repeatedly, trying to unzip the jacket, until I'm giggling too hard to be of help.

Adam: Mom! It's not funny! I don't want to wear this the rest of my life.
Me: I know. I'm sorry. I can't help it. I think it is funny! Let's wait till your dad gets home. He always has some tool thingy that will help.

Adam disappears into the garage and comes back in with a pair of very heavy vice-grips.

Me: What are you planning to do with those?
Adam: I haven't figured that out yet.
Me: Okay. Put them away when you're finished with them.

Adam disappears to his room with the vice grips. Fifteen minutes later, he appears at my side, trying once again to pull the jacket over his head. I try to convince him that there is no way his head will fit through the opening. I'm not sure what he says in return, since his mouth is muffled by the jacket. Perhaps that's a good thing.

Me: Adam, it's not going to work. Can we just wait?
Adam: I DON'T WANT TO WAIT!!
Me: Okay.

Adam disappears again, then reappears within two minutes with the jacket off, holding a bloody towel to his mouth.

Adam: I figured it out. You just have to hold the side of the jacket with your teeth.
Me: Are you all right?
Adam: Yeah.
Me: Let me see?

Adam removes the towel to reveal an ugly tear in his lower lip.

Me: Wow! That looks like it hurts!
Adam: Yeah. Do you think it will stop bleeding tonight?
Me: Yes. It might be a few minutes.
Adam: Good. I'm singing a solo tonight.
Me: Since when?
Adam: I'm sure I told you.
Me: I'm sure you didn't!
Adam: Mom, can we talk about this later? My lip is sort of bleeding right now.