New hair, who dis?

This afternoon while I was trying to get some reading done and Phoebe was feeling too scared to play outside with her siblings because there were dark, angry storm clouds gathering in the sky (that just sailed right on by without a spilling a drop), I let her put about a million barrettes in my hair. 

It kept her occupied. And I looked fabulous.

But I figured...who cares? It's not like anyone was going to see me or anything.

So, yeah. My hair was done like so when Benjamin ran into the house, completely breathless.

"Mom! Mom! You've got to come outside!" he gasped.

"Why?" I asked. 

"Because [friend from swim team] is in the cul-de-sac!"

"And..."

"And his mom wants to talk to you!"

"They're both in the cul-de-sac?"

"They're both in the cul-de-sac!"

She and her son had gone for a walk and wound up in our cul-de-sac. They hadn't realized that we lived quite as close to each other as we do. We chatted for a bit to get caught up from the last half of the year (and, yes, my first words were, "Hey! I was just letting my three-year-old do my hair so I could get some reading in..." and she was just like, "Perfectly normal. Been there, done that.") and recommitted to getting our kids together to play (they also homeschool and we just...sometimes life gets busy). 

So that was a little embarrassing—or at least poor time—but also not because it's just real life. And what reason should I have to be embarrassed about real life?

*****

Later, Phoebe would ask me if she could use "Zoë's stuff" to draw whiskers on her face so that she could become a kitty. 

"No..." I told her.

"Well, I'm already doing it, so..." she shrugged, continuing to paint her face with lip gloss.

This is what I'm up against. 

She was washing her hands earlier in the day and, (1) knowing she's only supposed to take one pump, but (2) counting the number of times she pumped the soap dispenser, said, "One, two..."

Then she paused and said, "Can I do three pumps?"

"No," I said. "You're only supposed to do..."

"Oops," she said, pumping the soap dispenser another time. "Three. I guess I will do four, then."

(Because—you know—I had just said "no" to three pumps).

She gave herself one last pump.

"And four!" she sang. "There we go!"