Sid worked from home today, so he came upstairs to join us for lunch. I caught his eye several times, smiling real big, shifting my head from side to side slightly — my desperate attempt to get him to notice what he had missed this morning. After all, it’s not every year that I buy a new set of hair clips and try to change my hair-do.
Exasperated, I finally said, “You haven’t noticed my new hairstyle. I even bought new hair clips.”
“Oh I noticed those hair thingys this morning,” he claims. “But it’s still the same style, kind of waving back from your face.” He waves his hands over his head and makes a whooshing noise.
I roll my eyes and sigh severely. “I PARTED my hair on the side.”
Sid squints his eyes and looks closer. “Nah. It’s still the same.”
“Humph. That’s the last time I spend an extra 2 minutes primping in the morning.”
I carry my lunch plate of leftover stroganoff to the table where my 9-year-old sits, shaking his head, a trace of sigh on his lips.
“What?” I ask.
“You get spoiled when you get married.”
“Huh? Spoiled how?”
“You get spoiled when you love on each other like that all the time.”
I hold back the laughter, reducing it to a smile. Perception is definitely this kid’s strength.
Prairie Sings 