Stinky Pete walked in with his fire man boots and a razor and said, "Mom! Why won't you let me shave?!" I explain that as soon as he has 8 whiskers he can shave. Then he asks, "When I'm 10?" For some reason, he thinks that 10 is when you can do it all. I told him that if he has 8 whiskers when he is 10, then he could shave. He then says, "But I am ten!", to which I reminded him he just had his 4th birthday. Then he leaned in as close as he could and with his hand turned my face until it was directed right at the spot he wanted me to examine. "Mom! There are whiskers right here!" I took his soft, little whisker free cheek, kissed it and said, "Invisible whiskers are the best kind." He squinted his eyes, chuckled, and walked out of the room to begin his next conquest.
Fatty and Flower McFlannagan are 8 months old and we are still alive. Since our last post, we moved (still in Louisiana but we needed more room), Mardi Gras'd, and much more. I hope to get some of that on the blog. We'll see.