A few mornings ago, I was in the computer room when I heard a whirring sound come from the bathroom down the hall... a sound I instantly recognized as Paul's electric razor. I jumped up and ran into the room to see a grinning Lucian attempting to shave his head! He only managed to chop a few strands, and as he had basically nothing to start with, I don't think the patch is noticeable. That child! I don't know where he comes up with this stuff.
Only an hour later, I set the boys up at the table with a snack: apples and peanut butter. I then went upstairs to put away a load of laundry. Five minutes later, I returned downstairs to see my little boy slathered in peanut butter, attempting to wipe off his hands using his hair. Really? What's wrong with your shirt, my son? Don't normal kids wipe their hands on their shirts?
So, like the good mom that I am, I whisked him upstairs and steered him into the guest room for a photo op before plopping him into the bathtub. Hey, I know my priorities. When I told him to look at the camera, he slowly turned his head and smirked up at me with an impish grin. (Doesn't it look like he knows too much?)
Oh child, it's a wonder my hair isn't gray... yet.