It’s been a few weeks since this happened, but I realized I forgot to share one of my most embarrassing mom-moments as we sift through this thing called life.

Greg and I had taken the boys for haircuts. Sort of a thing we do as family. Or at least since Greg did it on his own, and I bawled at the sight of the boys when they returned home. In Greg’s defense, he was trying to help. In mine, my father had died three days earlier, and I was an emotional meltdown waiting to happen.

So now we go together as one big happy family.

Hayden was first to hop up in the stylist’s seat. Little did the woman know she had a 4-year-old boy who liked to talk, wasn’t shy, and very inquistive.

Here are some of the things he peppered his stylist with…

What’s your name? My name’s Hayden. That’s my bwother, Gwiff. And my mom. And my Dad.

I just went to Disney. I saw Chip and Dale. They look the same, though.

I don’t like that Bug’s life show. Smoke is everywhere and it scared me. I sat on my mom’s lap.

Are you a Mom?

Do you have any gum?

What’s that guy doing? (Pointing at a gentleman getting his bangs trimmed.) Don’t do mine like that. That doesn’t look good.

Awww…geez. That hair tickles on my neck. I don’t like it.

And on and on and on.

By the time we left, I was worn out, and the woman who cut Hayden’s hair was laughing. We paid and walked outside, when Hayden grabbed the door, swung it back open, stuck his head inside and yelled…

See you later, bosom!” We won’t be going back there anytime soon.

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