Adding Injury to Insult

For the past few months Mommy and Daddy have been engaging in negotiations on the scale of world peace on the subject of . . . cutting my hair. I have finally started to look like a girl, in part because my hair is very long and can support adorable little hair pins. Unfortunately, I tend to pull out the hair pins after a few moments (Mommy looks so happy when I let her put them in my hair that I don’t have the heart to stop her - but they are quite annoying after a while) and ultimately put them in my mouth. This results in Mommy scolding me while I try to look at her through the hair in my eyes.

So last weekend Mommy finally capitulated and agreed to get me a haircut. Daddy compromised and said that it can remain long in the back and on the sides, but must be short enough in the front to not get in my eyes. Somebody should tell these people that only one parent should be in charge of my grooming, because the end result between such a compromise is that I now look like Jim Carey’s character in the movie “Dumb and Dumber.” (All I am missing is the chipped front tooth.)

As if a bad haircut wasn’t enough to be upset about, yesterday I got so excited to see Aurora after being out all afternoon (combined with being overtired at an hour past naptime) that I ran directly into the wall and slammed my face into the door frame. The end result: a lot of weeping and a little bruise. I think I just wasn’t used to being able to see so clearly without any hair in my eyes.