As I write this post, all three kids are combing (read: ruining) my hair. My computer is propped up on my knees because I just finished showing the kids some photos (yet more Big Cat photos. sigh), and I'm admittedly a little bored with their ministrations. They comb and yank and pull it every which way and scrape it into little painful bits that get twisted up in clips and bands and elastics. Seth is particularly zealous in this regard and I don't know how many times I've asked him already to please pay some regard to my eyes because the tips of his fingers are regularly finding them! My shirt is full of loose hair that has been pulled from my head under less than ideal circumstances, and if this keeps up I'm sure to be noticing patches of baldness. :) I can't actually see the computer screen in front of me at the moment (good thing I took typing in grade 10!) because the kids all experience an inordinate amount of pleasure in routinely taking every accessory out of my hair and then combing it smooth over my face - just to laugh hysterically when I tell them that I can't see. Then it all begins again. I've been sitting here for about thirty minutes and just now had the inspired idea to pass the time writing this post.
A little while later...
...I believe they're done now. I think I need to rewash my hair! As far as I can tell, my hair has about eighteen hair clips in it, three or four or five elastics holding little chunks together off of the left side of my face, a narrow hair band that was supposed to be Lizzie's but can't hold her thick hair in place now hanging around the entirety of my head in a parody of a crown, and an entirely 'undone' just-hanging-there section off of the right side of my face.
Shucks. My camera memory is full. :) :)