Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Not his hair. Mine.
Holy crap. I have Mom Hair. I got it here, and I do not think I'll be going back. Ever. Not even to ask them to FIX IT, because, as Ben pointed out, I don't have a lot of hair left right now. So, if you see me in the next month or so, don't comment on the lunch lady cum PTA president coif I have going on. I've had this do (don't) for a couple of weeks now, but I realized it was Mom Hair just yesterday when I noticed that it FEATHERS when it air dries.
Okay, that's all with the hair. Just had to get it off my chest so if you do see me you won't think, "Oh my goodness. Sarah has the hair cut of a much older, fatter, and pastier woman. Do you think she knows?" Boy does she.
Here's Harry at the farmers market and Harry saying good bye to our old place and deciding he doesn't like the way grass feels on his knees. Harry, if you're reading this in a few years, so sorry about the blue hat. The green one, however, I'll stand by. Ditto the awesome short shorts.
How big is Harry?
That's not a sun burn, I swear.
See, look. He has some hilarious sunscreen
Peek a boo!
Harry, Daddy, and the Capitol. Check out how cool harry is-- Robeez with no socks!
"Yummy. I always wanted to eat this, but my excersaucer was in the way. It's as delicious as I thought it would be."
Ha ha! Your Mom dresses you funny.
Oh yeah. I dress you funny,
Grass? Not so cool witb shorts on.