Suck up and deal

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My soon-to-be-13-year-old son likes his hair cut short, military style; and on his hunka' chunka' husky frame, it's just plain wrong. He has great, thick, wavy hair and kept a moderate length, he looks pretty darn good. Buzzed-off, Quantico style, he looks f-a-t. There's no crime in that. But my personal vanity gets wounded. Now he's joined the Civil Air Patrol Cadets, and Quantico is more than a style. It's "regulation", he explains.

"But I love your hair. You have great hair!" I protest.
"Mom," he barks, "Suck up and deal."

"..................... .............!! ...........", I gasp, sucking up and dealing.

Yesterday morning, when the sixth in a series of substitute school bus drivers showed up, my son poked his head in the door and alerted me, "Mom, it's another sub!"

"Suck up and deal," I replied.

".....!.... ............ .......!!.... ", gasped my son, realizing the trap he'd set.
And sucking up and dealing with it.

I like the Civil Air Patrol.