Num, hair?

Updated 4/10:

Where did my hair go?

Ollie managed to unwrap and chew an entire pack of gum on Easter Monday that belonged to Gibby. He likes to chew "num" but apparently that wasn't enough the other day because by the time he came to me asking for a rag to wipe it off he had wrapped the gum around his head and smeared it on various portions of his shirt. I explained that the rag wasn't going to help, removed his shirt and told him tomorrow we would have to go visit Roy Bob's Barber Shop, which is really Bob Roy's Barber Shop but I'll save that for another day, to get it cut off. He thought that was a grand idea and with his newfound voice (why I worry about speech in these kids amazes me, now I wish he would shut-up and stop telling my secrets) went around telling all who would listen, "Num. Hair. Cut. Bob."

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.