About a week. At least, that's what my dad tells me. For Heath's sake, I hope he's right.
Shortly after Stella hunkered down for her two hour afternoon snooze, I decided to take a pregnant pause and put my own dogs up, while Heath happily snipped at ribbon with his trusty green preschooler scissors. I'm making shorts for the beach.
Shorts may have been a stretch. They were mostly snippets of blue, yellow, and brown ribbon tied together. He was pleased with his creation and settled back for a snack of goldfish crackers and milk, and a little viewing of Curious George. And I settled back for a few minutes of silence and a moment or two to relish the busy bouncing bundle of baby in the belly joy. Then a pregnancy-induced coma nap, apparently. Fifteen minutes, tops, until I heard a breathy, Mama, in my ear.
Groggily, I turned to find Heath, green scissors in one hand, strands of hair in the other, and some of the most banged up bangs I've ever seen in my life.
I must've gasped, because he instantly handed over the scissors, calmly stating, Hair grows back, mom. It grows back.
He's right, it does grow back. But I found myself unsure whether I should laugh or cry, because his long locks, while certainly in need of a trim, now resembled something between the Dutch Boy paint icon and Prince Valiant.
And that's how we ended up at Great Clips at 5:15 on a Friday. Sadly, he refused to let me take a before picture. The nice lady at Great Clips did a reasonable clean-up job, and certainly enjoyed a chuckle at Heath's hair creation. At least we'll have lots of after pictures on our week long family vacation at Holden Beach. We leave in the morning.
I'm not sure what I'm looking forward to more: 5-8K running in the salty air, trail running on the six miles of trail at the Carolina Beach State Park, the ice cream bar in Southport, riding the ferry, sleeping in (oh wait, that's the vacation Mark and I will take in another four and a half years)...
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