Wednesday, March 26, 2008
The next day we went off to Bob's to get his haircut but not by Bob. I don't usually let Bob cut my kids' hair, he has gotten a little shaky as he nears retirement and I prefer shaky handed people with scissors to stay clear from my family. Instead we tortured his son Jeff and together as a team we successfully scalped the screaming boy. He still proudly says, "Num. Hair. Cut. Bob." Like it was all some fun game.
Predictably, Diezel's first comment when he saw Ollie sitting at the kitchen table with his new haircut was "Who is that scary kid and why is he wearing my shirt?" (Because he was! He was wearing an old shirt of Diezel's and looked like a mini-him.) Karma, my boy, karma. This was not my first emergency haircut rodeo.
**I know, a photo of the scalped boy would be good but like every other electronic thing in our house you must know precisely how to jiggle the cord to get it to work, or in this case transfer, and Vinnie has perfected this intimate relationship with our camera, not me. Maybe later today if he isn't too busy polishing another step for me.