Who Says You Cant Wear PJ's to School?

A very wise old man once said "The more rules you make, the more rule breakers you create." The older I get the more I believe that is true. I'm sort of a rules person. I feel a sense of safety knowing my boundaries. I think the problem starts when we begin making and trying to enforce them on others.
A great story about my youngest rule breaker happened when Jace was about 8. Jace loved the Ninja Turtles, especially Raphael. He got a pair of Ninja Turtle pajamas for Christmas and loved them. Wore them about every day during the holiday break. The morning of the first day back to school he asked if he could wear them so his friends could see them. "Of course not" I said. "Why not?" he responded. "Because you don't wear PJ's to school," There you have it, the rule. "Who says you cant?" he says. "Well you know "THEY". I don't remember how the conversation proceeded, but it didn't end convincing him that the "THEY" group who make the rules know best. It ended more like, "Because I said so, and go get dressed in school cloths before I chop off the head of your Raphael Ninja Turtle doll."
Now I foolishly assumed the war had been won, because we had no other morning battles over the issue. Then I was blind sided by a call from one of my spies, AKA "Aunt Georgie", whom had been brilliantly placed as secretary of the elementary school.
"Did you know that Jace has been wearing his Ninja Turtle PJ's to school for the past 7 or 8 days?" Oh the horror. Isn't it funny how our children's behavior makes us feel it's a reflection of our parenting skills? Those are the times you are tempted to lie and say something like. "Sure I know, I believe in letting the little darling express himself, besides, who says you cant wear pajamas to school? Why, they don't even have the little pee pee slit in the front." Who wants to admit they cant control their 8 year old. Instead I, with a tight lipped response, said "nope! thanks for calling"
I'm sure a smoke detector would have gone off had it been close to my head. My first reaction was to blame someone - Randy! so I called him, "did you know your son has been wearing pajamas the last couple of weeks to school? Don't you pay attention to what is going on?" You could hear the disbelief in his voice that he was getting the blame as he usually was gone or in the shower when they left.
I ran through my mind, trying to remember the previous mornings, checked the laundry - yep the normal mile high pile. I couldn't figure out how he got passed me with them on. Most parents are probably guilty of underestimating the deviousness of an 8 year old brain.
When he got home I did my best CIA interrogation routine, complete with stiff backed chair and a table that I could slap loudly in hopes of intimidating the little stink into spilling his guts. Instead, after just a few minutes, Lance, who had been watching the whole sordid scene, in fear because of his own part in the dirty dead, caved and told the whole story. Jace had been putting the PJ's into his backpack and changing at the bus stop, and then changing again at the bus stop before coming home. Lance had assisted him by blocking cars passing by from seeing him. A mother can only hope that none of those cars saw his tighty whities and boney little white legs freezing in the December weather.
I don't remember what I said or did, or what well deserved punishment Jace may have gotten, but Randy didn't let me cut them into pieces, which was what I wanted to do.
Where are all those old men who write books, when in the moment your asked Why not?" you have a wise answer?