I would have written earlier, but I was busy making myself into a redhead.
My husband will be thrilled. He has a thing for redheads, including Alyson Hannigan from Buffy and How I Met Your Mother. I've had various hues upon my scalp over the years, including a rebellious shade of purple and an eye molesting hot pink. Red is a colour I've dipped my locks into a few times, but have always shied away from a longterm affair due to a lifetime of blemishes.
It's simple: if the hair is red it will accentuate red in the face. Guess what else is red? That's right: pimples.
You passed. You get a cookie.
But now I'm using one of those ridiculously expensive facial systems that treat the acne I'm not supposed to have because I'm in my 30's. It's working fairly well and, despite my mug's odd zit fit, lately I'm looking more like someone who can sport any hair colour she damn well chooses. And it's about time, too.
I asked Pixie if she'd like to come run her fingers through my hair this morning, which actually meant 'keep my toddler busy while I run my own fingers through my hair by bleaching and colouring my unruly coif, then come to Wal-mart and watch the boy systematically destroy the toy section while I get a cut. We cool?'
She fell for it. I am so good.
The end result is what you see above. And, although I don't quite look like Alyson, that's okay because she's married to some dude in Hollywood so my husband has absolutely no chance with her. He'll have to settle for me, the Red Fox.
Look out, here comes the Red Fox. Ka-chow!
Okay, that nickname just isn't working out the way I wanted it to.
Spawnling has been a bit of a handful lately, albeit an unbelievably funny one. The interesting thing about having a two-and-a-half-year-old with a rich vocabulary is that he not only thinks like a toddler, but can vocalize those thoughts very well. For example, today I wouldn't give him a third helping of grapes. (Organic grapes are really, really expensive. Alright?)
The Maven: I'm sorry, Spawnling, but you can't have more grapes. Do you want some toast instead?
Spawnling: No! I want grapes! Give me some!
The Maven: No, Spawnling. No more grapes.
(It's important to know that The Spawn likes to think out loud, and almost all his naughty thoughts and schemes begin with "Okay")
Spawnling: Okay, I will dump everything out of the fridge.
The Maven: No you won't.
Spawnling: Okay, I will yell at you: You can go put calories in your mouth!
The Maven: ... Um, did you just tell me I can put calories in my mouth?
Spawnling: Yes! I did!
The Maven: Um... Thanks. I think.
Spawnling: No. You don't.
*Sounds of Geekster cracking up in the other room*
This morning, before school, Gutsy wanted a car that Spawnling was using. I asked Spawn if he could give his brother a turn:
The Maven: Spawn, can you give Gutsy a turn with that, please?
Spawnling: No, I can't.
The Maven: I think it would be nice of you to give him a turn, don't you?
Spawnling: No, it wouldn't.
The Maven: Spawn, give you brother a turn for two minutes before he goes to school.
Spawnling: Okay. Here you go, stupid brother.
There were a few of you who, before the boy was born, suggested I call Spawnling something other than, well, "Spawnling". You said the name was not befitting of a sweet little newborn.
You were right.
However, newborns grow really fast and become toddlers. And most toddlers I know - especially this one - fit that nickname beautifully.
I like being right.