My husband wears a suit on Easter. Also, if he's doing a wedding or a funeral. That's about it. So here we were on Easter. Please ignore whatever my hair is doing. I'm fairly certain it didn't look like that when we walked out the door. However, walking out the door occurred at six something because I heaved my kids--one of them five days post op--out of bed and went to the Sunrise Service at 7:00 am. My boys clean up nice. My oldest is starting to look like he has surfer hair. It's starting to look like the length is intentional. I'm starting to feel like people aren't wondering why I've let months go by without taking my son in for a hair cut.
That picture hurts me though. Physically. Because this is what my boys are supposed to look like. What the heck happened?
Oh...they used to look like this...
And like this...
So I forbid them getting a day older. Although my mom probably said the same thing.
I needed that picture for a conference I have coming up and when my mom sent it to me...well...I couldn't help but make this comparison.
Then I had the following conversation with my son. Pointing to the softball picture I asked, "Garrett, do you think this girl's cute?"
"Who is that?" he asked.
"Just tell me if you think she's cute."
"No," he responded and then proceeded to tell me that every girl in his kindergarten class is cuter than her.
"Then too bad you look just like her," I told him.
"What?" he asked.
At that point he pulled up his pant leg and looked at his knee. "Our knees are the same!" And I don't know how different a knee can possibly look but he was right. The knee in that softball picture looks exactly like my son's six-year-old knee. Bruises and all.