On Saturday Hubby let me sleep in. I was delighted to have a few extra winks and I lay in bed stretching every which way, thoroughly enjoying my langerousness.
As if instinctively, Munchie sensed I had awoken and came rushing in to greet me. I, not yet fully awake, did not at first comprehend what she was trying to tell me, and smiled and nodded at her. As most two year olds, she was stuck in a loop, and felt it necessary to repeat herself.
The second time around I kind of caught the gist of what she was saying, and in only ten to twenty drowsy seconds I was able to process it.
“Daddy cut Ducky’s hair, mama.”
You mean trimmed? Right sweetie? Trimmed?
She gave me a blank stare, smiled, and repeated herself, confirming what I had just heard with a vivacious nod.
I jumped out of bed, made a bee line for our den, and sure enough, there, in front of me, stood, or rather sat, a bald Duck.
Me: WHY??? WHY??? He had beautiful, soft golden curls!! What have you done to my beautiful baby boy!?
Hubby: I have been wanting to cut his hair for a while now. He will be cooler in summer, and it will help with hair growth.
Me: Ok, but couldn’t you have at least waited a week?
Me: Next week is his first birthday/picture day thing… and now he has no hair… and… and… he was so beautiful!
I realize I must have just called my son beautiful at least half a dozen times within a fifteen minute span. But honestly, there was no better way to put it. He is a very beautiful baby (and this is totally an objective unbiased statement). Because unlike other moms who are totally clingy with their sons, *I* have a complete grasp on things and am capable of making observatory impartial remarks. Yeah. Totally true.
So, now my Duck looks like this: