And so it was, days shy of 19 months, Big G bid fared thee well to his locks.
Nope. No baby there. He’s a little boy now.
The shearing was necessitated by the near serial mis-characterization of Big G’s rightful gender. Recently we had a father-son night at an ASU basketball game. He wore a sweatshirt with a bear dribbling a basketball. Yet this is what I heard:
How old is she?
She is adorable!
I wasn’t sure you wanted her getting out.
It was the curls. I knew it. Plus those whisker length eyelashes. The final straw (follicle?) was Sunday before Christmas at church. A visiting preacher stopped me at the end of the service.
PREACHER: Was that you and your children I saw at Dollar Tree yesterday?
ME: Yes, it was.
PREACHER: (Bending down to look at Gabby) Did you enjoy shopping with your little sister?