"Maybe you could grab the spray bottle and a piece of gum."
I have been cutting Keane's hair for years.
Not because I know how to cut hair, but because it is a way for use to save $20 and lucky for us both, his hair is thick and curly and hides my mistakes.
We use a ghetto rigged system that involves kitchen scissors and a trash bag.
Each time I see him rip a hole in another trash bag and slip it over his head to make a cape, I giggle and assure him I will invest in proper equipment for next time.
Wednesday night, we found ourselves in the same situation: Shirt off,
cape trash bag on. As he stood in front of me and I buzzed away at the sides of his head, he made two requests: a spray bottle to wet his locks and a piece of gum. for me.
Well, at least he asked nicely.
But it didn't stop there. Oh, no no.
The situation continued to go downhill even after I freshened my breath.
Picture this: a grown man, standing in his underwear with a see-through, white garbage bag sticking to his bare chest, and hair which was only buzzed on the sides (reminiscent of Will Smith circa 1992. You know the one, right?)
I put down the scissors to laugh my laugh where no sound actually comes out, and begged to take a picture. His response: "No! I'm not going to end up on your blog with my pepperonis showing. No one wants to see that."
That's Ok though, because it turns out mental pictures can be just as priceless as actual ones.
The Mrs: 1
The Mr: 0