Hair today, not tomorrow. . .

I knew it would happen sometime; it was just a matter of time. Why did it have to happen when the guy was here fixing our furniture?

Will got his scissors and took them to his room where he was supposed to be napping. He cut nearly a dozen slats off the blinds, then broke them into little pieces. While I was picking up the slat scraps and strings, he showed me his new do. My son will probably never be a hair-stylist. . . especially since he will never see scissors again. You know that earlier post about not hindering creativity? I changed my mind. Some things should be hindered.

The fix? I cut all of it off.

If you are wondering where the pictures are, there aren't any. Although I would've liked to capture a still shot of the mangy-dog-do, I didn't want him thinking we approved so I didn't take pictures. You'll probably see his military-cut later, just not today. He looked in the mirror and said, "Now, I look like a monkey!" . . . . . . . . . . no comment.