Just when I start to panic that I have no ideas for a blog post, the tribe strikes again and hands me legendary (drink) material on a silver platter.
This is what Kaleb presented to me this morning:
At first glance, I thought the kids had destroyed one of our dress-up wigs. But on closer inspection, I noted the hair looked quite real and (drink) the shade was profoundly close to "Twin Red." "Very funny," I told our little jokester, who has been binge watching YouTube prank skits. (April Fool's Day was a hoot at our house!) But I can tell when he's up to something and his facial expression was grave enough to tear me away from a pivotal moment on a Where's Waldo? puzzle to check on the situation.
Sure enough, I found a set of very sheepish twins attempting to act natural despite their obvious encounter with scissors.
It was very hard to keep a straight face. "We wanted short hair like Nana," Eleanor explained. She may as well have (drink) added a sassy, "duh!" because her tone implied their decision to take the matter into their own hands was clearly the only conceivable way to achieve their "Nana-look-alike" goal. "Plus," Cynthia chimed in, "our hair was in our eyes." Her tone was equally condescending.
I guess all the talk of at-home haircuts gave them the implication that selfie styling is one of the many new acceptable protocols. Not wearing pants, unlimited screen time, dressing up as robbers to go out, and cutting our own hair. Makes sense. (Drink) "Are you angry?" Eleanor asked in the cute voice she knows will get her off the hook. And it did. It's only hair, after all. And it's a great story. We still tell the story of how my brother shaved his head when he was six. Great stories are worth a few weeks of uneven bangs (at least I think Cynthia now has bangs - hard to tell). I did strongly advise enlisting the help of a professional (that would be me these days) the next time they felt the urge to single-white-female Nana.
And, not to be outdone, Kaleb decided to do the exact opposite of his sisters.
#Blackmail Evidently, boredom has infiltrated the Meyer home. I just hope they all come out of this with ten fingers and ten toes. Because if they sever an appendage, I'm not going to the ER.