We’ve got a new problem with Rascal. Every morning before school he insists on slicking his hair back all proper like. He even uses, gasp, a comb. No more messy-headed Austintatious hair. As I’m sure you understand, I’m having a really hard time accepting this.

Long before I had children I vowed not to interfere with things like hairstyles and fashions. There are bigger things to worry about, right? I promised myself I wouldn’t go ballistic when he opted for a mohawk or dreads, but this…?

Well, let’s just say I never promised he could run around looking like Alex P. Keaton. Totally unacceptable!

The next thing you know he’ll want to vote Republican.

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  1. Every time I do something different or radical with my hair, like turn it magenta or cut off 10 inches, B asks why I can’t do something sensible like get another tattoo.

  2. Yikes! What happens if you mess if all up for him?
    You made me laugh out loud. I feel for you… and trust me, this too shall pass. :)

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