Guess who got a haircut this weekend?
Not Mr. December either—he still looks like a rock star with his thick, wavy, shoulder-length hair.
Not R, N, or E. I was too lazy to cut any of their hair this weekend.
Now that I think of it, this is the first haircut anybody in this house has had in over 542 days that wasn’t done by me.
Yesterday my mum took K to her hairdresser and got her a real, honest-to-goodness professional haircut. It looks amazing. See for yourself:
Holy cow, could she look any more like a teenager?
It’s not something we used to do, but before camp this summer we measured the kids’ height against a wall in our basement. A couple of days ago we measured them again. They’ve all grown a bit, but N grew three centimetres (an inch and a quarter) in eight weeks. If I hadn’t been measuring him I wouldn’t have known until he actually donned a pair of real pants and we all saw a huge gap between the pants and his shoes (but let’s be honest, I’m not expecting him to put on real pants anytime soon.) Clearly his body has been making good use of all the cereal, milk, and bread he’s been shoveling into it.
At least twice a day every day I get asked, “Eema, when are you going grocery shopping?” They usually follow that question immediately with “we need Cheerios [or blintzes, pasta sauce, roma tomatoes, or whatever it is they’re eating this week].” I’m this close to giving them my Instacart password and putting them in charge of the grocery orders. I’ll even set aside some time for them to do the shopping during school hours—it’s either Home Ec or Life Skills, right?