Hair today, gone tomorrow

Yesterday I did something awful. The twins and I were having such a good day: We went grocery shopping, watched a movie, went for a walk around the lake, rode their tricycles in the backyard . . . And that's when the tide changed. We were outside playing when I noticed how long their hair had gotten. It was so long, in fact, that Dylan's hair was covering his ears like little muffs, and Kyle's was draped down over his eyes. It seemed like the perfect time to give them haircuts. They were getting pretty dirty and would need a bath soon anyway. I ran inside to grab a comb and some scissors. I thought, 'I'll just give them a little trim.'

I have a vision now of Kyle in therapy sessions.

Dylan wouldn't let me touch him. Kyle, on the other hand, is a good little boy who does basically everything his mommy tells him. He sat very still and let me completely destroy his hair. Too much on this side, too much on that side, and too many attempts to even it all out . . . Oy vey!

Future Kyle: "I always wanted to please my mother. Once, when I was two, she butchered my hair, and I just sat there and let her do it. I just wanted to please her. I wanted her to be happy."

I swear I will never ever cut my children's hair. Ever.

Speaking of hair, when I got home from a glorious day of chit-chat and vegging with Sadie, Michael greeted me at the door with a shaved head. "I'm bald," he announced.

About once every two months, Michael re-realizes that he is going bald. He keeps trying to justify his abnormal hair growth (or lack thereof): "These hairs grow this way, and those hairs grow that way, and I have this empty spot here," he tells me. Yeah, it's called a BALD spot.

What cracks me up is that I have known Michael was balding since our very first date. I also knew he was a bit on the short side (something he "confessed" to me on our second or third date) and that his tummy was, well, being sucked in. None of these things bothered me at all - not even for a second.

The only thing about Michael's appearance that worried me was that he was wearing white socks with his brown sandals on our first date. Occassionally, I have to remind him of this, and, more importantly, that I chose to go out with him again after that!