Sunshine – check. Dishes done – check. Bed made – check. Laundry done – almost, lol. Since when is laundry ever done? Well, I guess I can blog bit.
I was remembering a story about when my son cut his hair like McGuyver the other day (I think I was reading Jona’s blog) He came downstairs with his hand on his forehead and started to eat, and I said, “Take your elbow off the table and your hand off your forehead,” and he did, and I gasped. No more bangs. Cut right up to the scalp. Hair sticking straight up all the way across the front and top.
“I wanted to look like McGuyver,” he said, and right then I started to hate the mullet cut. I was upset. My son had thick, straight blond hair and it had to be cut into a brush cut to even it all out. I did not like the army look one bit.
Well, I laughed about it a month later when we went to Japan. We stopped off in England at a friend’s house and was telling the story – and we actually all laughed about it. My friend, who was American too, thought it was hysterical my son wanted to look like McGuyver. She held her little five year old daughter in her lap, and played with her long, black curls. “My Jenny would never do that, would you?” she asked, and the little girl said, “Never!”
We went off to Japan together for a polo tournament, and the next week we were back in England, and our friend’s nanny met us at the door and said, “remember that story that made you all laugh about the little boy?” Turns out my friend’s daughter had decided to cut her hair while we were gone, and the little girl had cut herself a McGuyver cut too. She said she liked McGuyver the best, and wanted to look like him too.
We left the next day and the mother was still crying.
I told her she’d laugh about it in a month.
She did not look convinced.