What, like you don't do something special for yourself to get ready for Christmas? Shae got a haircut. (I'm getting a pedicure later today, if I get out of work early.)
And I am the crazy idiot parent who documents the whole thing for "posterity." Or, you know, "the blog."
It's kind of a good thing that my kid is a total dorky ham who loves to get her picture taken while she is doing things she's not supposed to.
Like gnawing on a comb. (Not her fault -- it was past dinnertime and I didn't pack any snacks in my purse.)
I don't blame her for loving to sit under the dryer. When I am at the salon, the dryer is my happy place. They could leave me there all day with foils on my head and back issues of the gossip rags and a cup of tea. But I'd never leave.
It was a pretty standard haircut -- not much we can do with her head except make it less bushy and 'fro-like. Maybe I should learn how to braid; she really liked that.
Then we went home and ate two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and posed for a "proof of life picture" with my old Santa Claus bank, the end.