So, while we were in Montana, some guy at the cell phone store thought I was a girl because of my pretty blond curls. Like boys can't have pretty blond curls? Whatever. So, mom and Gramma took me to get my hair cut.
One problem is that in Montana, the air is so much drier than Seattle and it just turns my curls into a frizzy mess.
Isn't this a cool look in Montana? Like a country music star. So anyway, instead of gelling my hair each day, I have to cut off my pretty curls. You'd cry too! 
Actually, it started out OK. I got a sucker to suck and sat on Mom's lap. That was fine.
Then, things started to drag on and hair was flying and the next thing I knew, there was HAIR on my sucker
and then HAIR in my mouth. Yuck.
At that point, I was just done.
The hair stylest had been working for AT LEAST 5 minutes - probably more. My sucker was ruined and I was ready to go.
No pretty curls, but at least I can wear an ambiguously red or light blue shirt and people will still know I'm a boy.
1 comment:
Stanley, you sure take after your Uncle Georgiebooboos. Let Auntie Risa tell you a story! Your Uncle G loves to trick people whenever he goes out in public. My favorite is when your Uncle G and Auntie R go out for dinner. Uncle G loves to drive the waiters nuts by ordering what?...a Pina Colada! And every time, they always bring it to your Auntie R. Can you believe that! WE LOVE YOU!!!
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