2115381843_04518c864d.jpgI took #2 to get his haircut the other evening.  He was in a really, really bad mood when we go to the haircut place.  It’s a little uncharacteristic of him to be so grouchy.  He was being smartalecky to the girl cutting his hair. I was a mite embarrassed at my normally sweet kids’ rather un-Christmasy attitude and rudness to a grown up.  I jumped all over him.

The girl cutting his hair, Lindsay, she’s a doll.  She has a real thick Southern accent and she said to #2 “If you aren’t good, Santa’s gonna leave a big ol’ piece of doo doo in your stocking.”  I thought me and the Holy Tara were going to fall right on out.  #2 was trying not to laugh cause, you know, he was pissed.  Perhaps it was a Guess You Had To Be There kinda funny. He was killing me.

2116160720_478991e301.jpgHe was irritated cause he said he didn’t like his hair short.  Well, when it was longer, I reminded him, it had to be brushed and he’s not so fond of that either.  Seems he is interested in cultivating this sort of look for himselfbravo.jpg.  That is no lie.  He has asked for black tshirts, black shoes, and a year’s supply of hair gel for Christmas.

On another slightly humorous note, the Manchild has discovered his online pseduonym that I gave him here.  He digs it.  I hope he doesn’t get after me for that not being his given name like he did when he was little and he asked me why we didn’t name him “Rocky” like the Power Ranger.  Heh.

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