Poor Tommy. Yesterday I took him to get his haircut. Because Tommy's mommy is stupid and because the hairdresser didn't speak the very best English, Tommy looks like a mini-Marine. Just in time for his third birthday. (And of course he does miss his hair and feels sad that it's gone whenever he sees a mirror.)
Not hair related, but overheard after Eli made a sandwich for Tommy's dinner: "It's really [pronounced rea-wy] yummy, dad. Thanks for making it for me." I'll take this opportunity to thank Ovie for teaching our child such good manners.
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