Fixed

After an appointment this morning, I called my husband to see if he'd like to meet for lunch. I got there first and sat down to read the paper while I was waiting. Several minutes later, I heard the familiar giggle of our youngest son and before I could look up, he was wrapped around me like a warm towel.

Both he and my husband were laughing. "Do you like how dad fixed my hair?"

It was startling to see, but I have to admit, better than yesterday's mohawk. He was completely bald or "bulbed" as he calls it. "I love it this way, mom, and want to keep it like this for school."

With his shocking blue eyes, extraordinarily long eyelashes and pretty face, my initial reaction (which I kept to myself) was that he looked very much like a sick little girl who had just gotten out of the hospital. It was painful for my brain to process, at first. But, as he sat there next to me, watching baseball on the overhead TV and reading the sports section of the paper, he was all boy. I couldn't stop hugging him. 

As we ate lunch and watched our bald little son, with curiosity, my husband exclaimed while he was laughing out loud, "All he needs is a tattoo on his shoulder." (I've been working with him on "the 10 second rule", but no, he just blurts out whatever crosses his brain, without a much-needed delay or filter.) Without missing a beat, Colton says, "Great, dad, let's go get one." They both laughed hysterically. Me, not so much.

I am happy to report that my husband did try to make up for the not-so-funny joke he played on me yesterday and lucky for him, our son is a terrific sport who has had just as much fun with all of it as his dad. I'm not sure I'm anxious for Colton to enter the second grade "bulbed", but I am sure we're in for a lifetime of practical jokes from the crazy boys in this family.