Friday, May 10, 2013

And the Child Becomes the Parent

My husband has jet black hair. Let me start over. My husband HAD jet black hair. Now, he has jet black hair with a sprinkling of silver. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE it! I’ve always thought a man with salt and pepper hair was very sexy, though he doesn’t believe it. So, I’m not sure why, but whenever one of those silver hairs is poking out away from the rest, I just want to grab it and yank it out.
Hubby and 4-year-old son last weekend at Avon Walk for Breast Cancer.

But, what my husband also has is a ton of hair and the thickest roots. I will most certainly lose my hair before he will. So, when I yank said hair, there is a huge bulbous root connected and it actually makes a loud popping sound when it comes out.

Tonight, one of those hairs was screaming at me, and I tried to use the “It’s Mother’s Day, won’t you let me just this one time?”

About that time, my 4-year-old daughter walks in. Hubby asks her, in the most negatively descriptive way, if he should let me pull out his rogue hair. She giggles, rolls her eyes, and turns away in an uncomfortable shyness that she gets when she is being put on the spot. Then, she turns back, points at both of us and says, “You two need to work that out on your own.”

And the child becomes the parent.

Where is this insight when she is arguing with her brother?

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