It was a bizarre thing this morning...we were all up and ready to leave for school a half hour before we needed to. That's not normal for us. Usually our morning routine looks like a cross between a fire drill and that old game show Super Market Sweep. There is usually running and yelling and frantic searches for shoes and backpacks and jackets. Not this morning.
We were all up and ready to go with time to spare. I had time to read with Mischief while Dude played Lego quietly in his room and Crafty puttered around with her dolls. I was just about to call for the kids to get their things together when an ear splitting scream shattered our quiet revere.
I hopped off the couch and raced downstairs. It was Crafty and she was in the bathroom. In that instant a thousand thoughts raced through my head. Did she hurt herself? Did she see a spider? Was she just testing her vocal range? Through the door I asked her if she was OK. Slowly she opened the door, sobbing. I did a quick visible sweep of her limbs...all there and seemingly unharmed. Then I looked up. There's the problem.
Crafty's normally pony tailed, clipped and hair banded hair was a chaotic nest of random barrettes and ribbon. Between her hiccuped sobs she says, "I'm having a bad hair day."
So it begins...