No Whining Allowed

The Boy has more hair than 3 kids put together. He prefers it long. But, unfortunately, because the sheer bulk of it, it never really grows longer. It just gets wider. Honey had the same problem as a young man. They look like Bushmen. Or Tongan, like Felipe, from The Biggest Loser.

He needed a haircut, and today was the day. For three very important reasons.

1. Our cousin, Lindsay, is getting married tomorrow. It is important that our family look presentable for such occasions. If the sun, moon, stars and planets align, I may even get out next years Christmas card picture!

2. This one is two-fold.  We are going to Florida in a week or so, and he needs to look presentable for that as well. But more importantly, he still  needs to get his senior picture taken. Since we have waited this long, I decided that we would get it taken when we returned, so he would have that sun kissed look about him. So he needed to have it cut before we left, so that he doesn’t have a ring of white around his hairline.

And I really don’t want to hear how behind we are in the whole senior picture taking thing either.  I am well aware of that. So far, neither he nor The Ab-Cat have been interested in this endeavor. I MADE the Ab-Cat do it. I seriously think the only reason she consented  was because I let her be photographed with her dog.

3. He is available.  He is home from school today. Because he has no platelets. Actually he has about 6000, but that is not nearly enough to go to school. He was sick with some sort of viral thing earlier in the week. Headache, fever, generally feeling like K-rap. And viral things cause his Chronic ITP to rear it’s ugly head. His hematologist does not like it when he sinks so low, so he has prescribed a 7 day course of steroids. Which I really tried to get him out of, but they weren’t budging. I knew he was not going to be a happy camper. He wasn’t. He says steroids mess with you, man.

To console himself, he is watching the new James Bond movie and had a pizza delivered.

Here he is,  after waking up at the crack of 11.

 Welcome to Tonga.

Goodbye Tonga, hello SuperStar!

When I took the cape off him I leaned over, kissed his cheek, and told him “now that’s my good looking Boy!”

I may not be able to post tomorrow because of the extreme technical difficulty of getting my family ready for a social situation that requires any clothing other than jeans. I am not kidding. It is a Herculean effort. And I am only one woman.