When did I become THAT mother?

You know, the mother who lets her kids out of the house in ridiculous outfits because she couldn't or wouldn't tell her kids that what they picked out was horrifying?  Or, as in my case, she told her kid that the outfit looked dreadful and that kid just shook his head, refused to change, and said "I wook AWESOME" and scampered away?

Charlotte's outfit isn't bad, but I probably wouldn't have chosen those boots to go with that skirt.  But Peter?  He looks horrific.  Who else but a three-year-old would put together a gray 4th of July t-shirt (in May, no less) with brown cammo shorts and black "Batman" boots?

His teachers commented that together with his little buzz cut, he looked like the quintessential American kid.  I think he looks like a redneck.  I had to take photographic evidence to show him later how his Tennessee roots stayed put even though he had moved to Michigan.  Cammo is, after all, a primary color in Tennessee.

How come my daughter will pretty much always wear exactly what I pick for her and my son is the one with the strong fashion opinions?  Not to mention the fact that this was already the third outfit he had put on this morning.  He always changes his mind, decides he needs something "awesome" (his favorite adjective), and heads back to his closet to do his best impression of Yoda rooting through Luke's things on Dagobah.  Sigh.