I
was going to write a thrilling entry today about my budget Halloween. Which probably isn't so much based on budget as it is on mooching, oops! I mean, on the genuine generosity of others...
But then yesterday happened. It was an exciting and busy day, with votes to be cast, pumpkins to be carved and homework to be finished. It was a day with a story, and that story must be shared.
The boys and I were seated around our kitchen table hard at work on this week's cut & sort worksheet. After a few minutes of gleeful participation, things had started to go a little sour. I could see the grand tradition of procrastination [passed on through many generations] starting to rear its ugly head. Glue was being thrown, scissors were being launched, and my children were quickly disappearing under the table,
Just when I was about to give up, things had gone eerily silent.
As a mom, you can pretend all you want that silence is a good thing, but when you live with two five-year olds, you know better; the sound of silence might as well be a siren of destruction.
And that's when I heard it....
"Mommmmmmy?" A two syllable word stretched into six? Not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.
"Um, I accidentally cut my hair." Ah, yes, a statement that will go down in history, forever destined to be repeated and bronzed in a baby book. 'I
accidentally cut my hair.'
I took a minute to inhale, then exhale, inhale again and then let out one big sigh. I counted to ten or twenty, maybe even thirty, and I stared at the table for a minute, not sure I really wanted to look up.
If you know me at all, or if you've been reading my ramblings for a while, you know my biggest fear [besides martians] is the fear of a buzz-cut. The last thing I wanted to do was to look up and make eye contact with a snafu so horrid that it could only remedied with clippers.
Eventually, I summoned up enough courage to direct my eyes upward. I first saw the pile of hair on the kitchen table which Hayden was already starting to throw away. Kind of big, yes, but under the realm of positive thinking, could have been worse. So I bit the bullet and prepared to face Cash, the culprit, face to face.
This is what I saw:
Just see if you can spot the missing chunk.
I could tell the boys were nervously waiting for my response, probably expecting a blow-up, but the look on Cash's face was so classic, his eyes looking up, trying to focus on that spot where hair once was, that the only thing I could do was laugh.
Cash started to giggle too, in high-pitched relief, and Hayden followed suit. I manage to eek out one or two 'You need to be more careful' scoldings but what was the use? It was a moment so humorously endearing it was devoid of all punishment or discipline.
It really wasn't that bad, anyway. My painstaking devotion to their hairstyle had finally paid off, as the rest of his bangs are long enough that with the right part and maybe the right product you can barely tell that something is missing.
Truthfully, I have to admit I'm a little bit surprised it hadn't happened sooner.
After all, a good day in our house is one when we manage to make it to the end of the day with the house leaning, but standing and
most everyone's appendages still intact.
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