I'll Take Heebie Jeebies for $200, Alex.

Death By Mortal Wound or The Heebie Jeebies?
My 7-year-old son is "star of the week" this week in his 2nd grade class, so he had to fill in a poster with photos of things he likes, his family, etc., as well as fill in a few questions. When he showed me what one of the things on his "wish list" was, I told him it was inappropriate and that he needed to change it. Am I wrong? Being a boy and the youngest brother of a Marine-bound 19-year-old, he'd written, "I wish I had a shotgun." Nice. No bueno, young lad. No bueno. So what did he replace it with?


"I wish I had a pet spider."

On second thought, I'd rather you have the shotgun.

At Least My Sons Have . . . Style?
So the only female in the house thinks less about her hair than each of the males. I haven't had my hair cut by a professional in one year and 10 months. I cut it myself. I haven't used any type of hair appliance that plugs in for, probably, a year. I put more time and effort into picking out my socks than I do my hair. I wash it and let it dry. And then the next few days, I put it up. Then I repeat the process. Sometimes I use mousse.

So I find it incredibly funny that I have three boys who care about their hair and how it looks. The 7-year-old is always trying to get his into a "fauxhawk" or combing it just right after it's washed. Today middle dude (12 years old) came home from spending the weekend with Nana and Papa with a freshly-cut flat top. In 2010.

Lastly, oldest dude (19) recently clipped his into a mohawk of sorts (leaving a thin layer on the sides) to honor an agreement he had with one of the youth leaders at our church. They both agreed to do it if the junior high kids raised a certain amount of money for the 30-Hour Famine, a World Vision ministry that fights world hunger. This is my son who used to have long, flowing red hair - which he cut off (16 inches total) for Locks of Love.

I used to think since I don't have any girls, that hair wouldn't be an issue in my house. This is not the case.

Well, There Ya Go.
This evening when I was helping youngest dude print out a couple of pictures for his "star of the week" poster, I printed one that was too small for his liking. After I made it larger and sent it to the printer again, he came walking back into the room, picture in hand, and declared, "Now that's my girl! This one is just right."