Susan (you may know her as my sister, the one who doesn't read this blog) came over last night..
Susan and her children visiting on a Sunday night is an unusual occurrence.
This day there was a small emergency.
Seems her boy child got tired of his blond bangs tickling his eyebrows and he took matters into his own tiny hands, using his craft scissors he cut a chunk of bang hair right off at the scalp..
(Well, not exactly that short, there was about a half inch of hair at his hairline).
When they first walked in the door and I got a good look at his handy work I tried hard not to laugh.
When I asked him what ever may have possessed him to barber himself..he answered.."SHE said I could!!!" pointing at his mother.
His mother, looking down, nodded her head in agreement.
Then to defend herself she said "I didn't think he'd really do it".
Good thing he didn't ask to sled off the roof.
Or barbecue the dog.
My tiny nephew wanted a Mohawk cut...impossible, since he'd cut the chunk out of the front.
I did the best I could to salvage his look and when I got done he looked in the mirror and said it was "good".
He then buried his head in his mother's lap and loudly whispered "IT'S SHORT!!!!".
I almost put on my Holier Than Thou outfit to chastise my poor (trusting) sister..
Giving unwanted advice... "keep the scissors hidden" and "I'd break those little fingers off his body if he were mine" and all kinds of helpful stuff like that.
I was about to let her know that things like that don't happen to perfect families like mine and Daddio's....homes with perfect children and their perfect parents.
Then suddenly I remembered the time I came home from work to find a hunk of Googie's hair missing.
The Sweet Prince Buttercup was implicated immediately as the perpetrator in the crime.
He'd recently been gifted some left handed scissors from his Godmother who felt sorry that the poor boy couldn't cut a thing with our regular "right-handed" pair.
Daddio was on kid duty the day Googie got a haircut from her brother.
I noticed the missing hair the second I laid eyes on my tiny girl.
"What the heck happened?" I demanded to know, pointing to the spot on Googie's head where her hair had gone missing.
Daddio was dumbfounded!
He had no idea what happened.
No idea when it happened.
Kids gone wild with scissors.
"Good thing he didn't grab a permanent marker and draw her a mustache to go with the trim" I remember hollering.
Well, at least my nephew had permission.
Good thing he didn't ask to borrow the car ;-)
(I'm not worried Susan will get mad at me for telling this little story...she doesn't read this blog, remember.
And really, if she wanted to, Susan could certainly tell a tale or five hundred about my (not so) perfect children and their (not so) perfect (incredibly gullible and stupid) mother... but she'd never dog me out that like).
There are two morals to the this story...
(1).. People living in glass houses shouldn't throw stones
(2).. Just say "no".... it doesn't even matter what they are asking you.