We arrived at Magicuts for Daddy’s bi-monthly, white board option four, plain-clothed-officer hair-cut and made our plan for pick-up.
I rolled away in the Grand Caravan en route to pick up coffee for Greg a steeped tea with double milk for myself, careful to lose as little air conditioning as possible when ordering through the intercom, then realizing I was ordering two large scalding drinks so why did that really matter?
Hanna was pouting and I asked her why.
Hanna: Because when we left the hair cutting place, there was a tree that looked exactly like my tree in our front yard and you didn’t even notice.
Agreed, I had been paying far too much attention to pesky traffic signals and pedestrians when I should have been solely focused on mini-mall landscaping—my bad.
When we returned to pick up Greg, rather than unbuckling three children, one of whom, who shall remain nameless (rhymes with Zoe) is almost impossible to settle into her seat and wrestle back into her seatbelt after disembarking for short trips like to check to see if Daddy’s hair is kitteny soft at the back and landing strip flat on the top.
I sent Hanna in to find out what stage he was at in the transformation from networking sales guy to “Sir, do you have any idea how fast you were driving?”
Minutes later when we were all on our way to the Home Depot, I noticed Ellie crying in the back so I asked her what was wrong.
Ellie: You sent Hanna in to check Daddy and his hair cut and I never get to do special things.
When we returned home I handed Chloe her cup of cold milk and continued busying myself preparing lunch.
Chloe (19 months old) pointed to the microwave with one finger and held her cup in the same direction with her other hand and said, “beep, beep, beep, beep.”
At least one of our kids knows how to communicate.
