"Feel this, Daddy?"

Short Person pulled out her basket of pretties. It is stacked full of things like headbands, barrettes, clips, combs, and ponytail holders-- a dream or a nightmare depending upon which day it is and which end of the comb you are working on. Today, I was on the receiving end of the yanks and tangles, as Short Person was doing my hair. Best I could tell, it was her goal to see if every clip would fit in my shoulder-length hair. Once she finished, there were about 20 clips in my hair, a bemused husband on the couch, and a proud child standing behind me.

LJS, either out of a perverse sense of humor, or because he was feeling ignored, decided to ask Short Person if she was going to do HIS hair.

Short Person looked at him and sputtered, "But... you don't have any hair!"

LJS, who was laying down on the couch, asked her to feel in the back of his head to be sure. So, Short Person walked over to stand next to him. Looked down at him very sadly and then took her hand and started patting his head-- none too gently.

"Feel this, daddy? NO hair."

And with that, she pursed her lips, picked up her pretties, and walked away, leaving LJS to contemplate the none too subtle approach of his child.

While I laughed...