I’ve been threatening to cut Dane’s hair for weeks. I keep getting: Your little girl is so cute! and How old is she? and I want to smack everyone who says that in the nose because really, y’all, if we had a girl, you’d know it. That baby would be CLOAKED in animal print and grosgrain and glittery shoes that light up and possibly even sing. What’s worse, our poor little guy keeps brushing his hair out of his eyes and putting his hands on his head and saying “Mama? Mama?” and so finally, after much soul-searching, I decided the time had come to cut his hair.
…and then today, this happened:
And he’s either going to be a professional baseball player or a trucker, but either way, the hair’s staying. We’re putting some product in there and calling it a day.
p.s. AVAAAAAAAAAAAAADA, Aunt Brookie. Also, name that movie I stole the caption from. The one that you made me LEARN EVERY LAST WORD TO WHEN I WAS EIGHT.
p.p.s Who am I kidding, A.B., you’re not reading this anymore. 🙂