I have a dishwasher and I use it with great abandon, but Saturday is our big dinner night. Not that the rest of the week is small dinner night – at least not for the person cooking and cleaning up. But we try to make it special on Saturday. We grill steaks and have a candle on the table and wine. We don’t usually have wine at dinner during the week, unless it has been a particularly rough day. So on Saturday the grownups have wine. The Kid has ginger ale. We listen to music and we try to slow it down a little and enjoy being at the table together. Sometimes this works. It also leads to a dishwasher full of dishes thus my procrastinating hand washing of the lunch dishes at this very moment. Almost sorry you asked, aren’t you?
The big news all over the elementary school and the swim school and anywhere else we’ve gone this week is The Kid’s haircut. You see, his hair was very long. Ringo-gone-surfer-punk-long. And we cut it short. A-pound-of-hair-on-the-floor-that-resembled-a-small-fox-short. All the moms at school and his teacher and people we don’t even know have stopped all week to say, “Oh! I love his haircut.” After a few thousand such comments, they began to annoy me, because I thought his hair look pretty cool when it was long too, and yes, there was a portion of hair on the back of his head that was beginning to resemble an animal pelt but really, The Kid has great hair be it long or short. (It was his decision to cut it.)
I’ll let you be the judge. Before…
And after…
Posts
My son had long hair until the age of eight. More than once, mothers would say things like, "my husband would never let my son's hair stay that long." Or "Wow, I'm surprised your husband can stand his son having such long hair." It really pissed me off after a while. He finally decided to cut it for a role in a community theatre production of A Christmas Carol. I think your son looks lovely both ways.
ReplyDelete