Strange

Ahhh....summer.

A slower pace.

No lunches to pack.

No homework to do.

But the fighting....oh, the fighting.

I have been refereeing fights all afternoon, so when it was quiet for a brief moment, I grabbed my Assessment textbook in an attempt to read a few pages before Fight #342 broke out.  After a minute or two, my 6 year old walked in with a water bottle and a hairbrush.  He asked if he could brush my hair. 

Realizing that I could keep reading and keep him occupied at the same time, I agreed.  Somehow the next 20 minutes turned into several more trips for supplies from my bathroom which resulted in a full-fledge makeover.

Let's not dwell too long on the fact that my 6 year old son did my hair and make-up. 

Or the fact that he declared how good he was at it and that maybe he should do this for other moms too someday. 

Or that he said he was going to invent a new kind of place that does hair and fingernails all at the same place for mom's who need it.  By this point, I was speechless and didn't tell him that it's already been "invented".

I'm thinking his talent will be enough of a dream-crusher as it is.

I'm not sure how well it shows up in this picture, but he was especially proud of his eyelining abilities, to which he proclaimed, "Now you look like a K-State fan!"

Right on, kid.  KU fans do NOT look like this.

Most disturbing, however, was when he asked if he could have all my hair stuff when I die.

And if I will still be alive when he is old enough to have a job. 

And later, when he asked if I was going to be at his wedding, or if I will die first.

I'm sleeping with one eye open.