Hippy Hair

It's almost time for The Boy's first hair cut. Born with a smattering of dark hair then the victim of infant pattern baldness, he's remained pretty much a baldy his whole 2+ years. Even now when he's got more hair than I ever could have imagined, it's still thin and sparse and seemingly undeserving of a trip to the barber's.

But it is starting to get long, and he seems to have inherited my penchant for cowlicks.

Observe

So yeah, there might not be much of it but it is quite stickie-outie. Hubs has been wanting to have it trimmed for months. I brushed it off and told him I'd be willing to part with The Boy's precious locks when his hair started hanging in his eyes. And I was gonna stick to that, but more and more it seems to be bugging him. Scratching at his ears and rubbing his head until he gives himself a static mohawk... I think he's trying to tell me that it's time.

I had been eying up local kid's hair cutting places, but then I saw THIS article on a website that I'm embarrassed to admit I frequent. And it led me to think that maybe THIS place might be fun for his first hair cut. I mean, yeah, it's in fancy schmancy Beverly Hills, but it's got awesome Yelp ratings and looks like it might be super fun for The Boy. I mean who wouldn't want to have their hair cut in a car before OD'ing on candy?

Decisions, decisions.

What got me through a Summer cold

He's all better now, but The Boy spent last week and part of this week coughing and snotting like nobody's business. We wouldn't have made it through without a jumbo bucket of Boogie Wipes, The Boy's favorite vitamins and many cups of tea for me.

Everything's new when you're two

Tonight after his bath The Boy discovered, for the very first time, that he had pruned hands. I was drying him off and he was riveted. I didn't know what was up at first, but then I got it. His little face was full of concentration as he examined his fingers, and then he turned to me and said, "clean it up."

I explained to him that he wasn't actually dirty and that his fingers would soon be back to normal. He then grabbed his bedtime books, curled up beside me in bed and forgot all about it.

A Day In the Life

As an homage to this post by the awesome Peeper, I did a picture diary of last Friday.

Starting with a breakfast of Wheetabix at 8am

A ride in our favorite grocery car during our morning walk at the cafe with Grandpa at around 9.

A bit of reading when we returned home around 10

Drawing a get well card for a friend around 11

A bit of lunch around 12

A game of peek-a-boo around 1

Taking a nap around 3 - yes, he fell asleep on the floor. Not a frequent occurrence but it does happen.

The cat napping around 4 - everyone was sleeping but me.

And getting some work done on the laptop before dinner - around 6.

And now The Boy is napping, not on the floor, and the cat is napping and I am loving my little family more than I ever thought it was possible to love anything.

Oh The Places You'll Go

My mom got me the Dr Seuss classic my senior year in high school and soon rued its wanderlust message. I spent most of the first four years after high school backpacking around Europe, working in bars in Prague, stumping for hostels in Brussels and sleeping in parks on the streets of Pamplona. I have always felt that that was the very best way to be young.

I have a twenty year old cousin who is currently working in a Croatian hostel before beginning his junior year abroad program in Bulgaria. Now, beside being incredibly proud and totally green with envy, I cannot help but look into the future and imagine The Boy's adventures in eighteen or twenty years.

To be honest the very idea scares the crap out of me. My dad described a feeling of overwhelming relief whenever he saw me exist the customs hall at LAX, waddling under the weight of my rucksack. Whatever sense of impending panic I have about sending The Boy off to school or summer camp, I'm even more nervous, and excited, at the prospect of him following in my Doc Martens and spending some time traveling.

In the meantime, however, we can see the world together,

Here's a picture I took of us crossing the Millennium Bridge in London

And here's The Boy on the same bridge, with a terrible picture of The Thames in the background.

Trip to the Tar Pits

The Boy had his first visit to the La Brea Tar Pits this past weekend. A field-trip staple while I was in school, the last time I had been there was when I was pregnant. So now that The Boy's 2 I figured it was time for him to meet a bunch of extinct creatures and experience the stench of the tar.

Yes there are actual pits of tar and they don't smell too good.

And here is The Boy contemplating his chances of pulling a weight out of some tar.

Our favorite parts of the day were witnessing a (fake) saber toothed tiger mauling a sloth - "Hi kitty," said The Boy, and a big lunch with some friends.

My new favorite Boy lunch

Toasted whole wheat English muffin, warmed turkey breakfast sausage, 1 slice or organic American cheese. Takes less than one minute to fix.

Vaguely healthy and sort of crunchy. I love it and, more importantly, The Boy accepts it as an alternative to the quesadilla stalwart.