Once Upon A Box Spring/Haircut

If my kids ever have to move to an encampment for refugees, I've got no worries. Because here they are, enjoying their first "home cooked meal" -- scrambled eggs inside flour tortillas -- in the dollhouse. Seriously, they were having the time of their lives. The old box spring and mattress have moved on and our kitchen table now is the setting for most of our meals. The location is the same because our kitchen table doesn't fit in the "kitchen" but rather the living room. I guess it really doesn't matter where the table is because whenever my back is turned these rotten little children eat on the couches anyway. Rotten children.


(New Topic)

Saturday I looked at Tommy and said "let's shave your head". It was all fun and games and a filthy T shirt/Ketchuppy face until he realized the hair was gone. Afterwards Tommy looked in the mirror, rubbed the stubble on his head and wailed "I can't live like dis! I need my hair back!" (Something he repeats on a daily basis)

Unsuspecting little cutie.

Innocent childhood in front......correctional facility inmate in back.

I couldn't resist. There is a very real part of me that would have loved to leave his hair like this for a while. It's the white-trash momma/Angelina Jolie part of me.

All done! (Instead of a bath we just let the neighbor's dog lick him all over.)