It was when I was changing Mackenzie's diaper that I noticed the scratch on her face. I asked Casey if she had been crying because he scratched her, and his response was to leap behind a chair to hide from me (translation: YES). Then I started brushing her hair to put it in a ponytail, which was when I noticed that her hair seemed to be falling out in clumps. It was all over my pants, the carpet and the hairbrush. After about 2.6 seconds of panic, I finally put the damned puzzle pieces together:
Casey the Bean, in the living room, with the crochet scissors.
(and this is just the chunk that I found on top the storage unit-- which, incidentally, is where I keep my scissors.)
"Uh-oh, Mom, Baby has scissors!"?? That boy.
On a side note.... perhaps this beastliness comes from his mother. I was driving home from the bank earlier today when a school bus pulled out right in front of me. I'm a pretty laid back driver in my old age (cruise control at 60, hang out in the right lane, listen to music, avoid the aggressors). But really... that bus pulled out right in front of me so I had to hit the brakes fast. I said, "Are you freaking kidding me??" Then Casey piped up from the backseat: "Are you freaking kidding us, Bus??" Eh. At least I didn't say the other F word.
On a side note.... perhaps this beastliness comes from his mother. I was driving home from the bank earlier today when a school bus pulled out right in front of me. I'm a pretty laid back driver in my old age (cruise control at 60, hang out in the right lane, listen to music, avoid the aggressors). But really... that bus pulled out right in front of me so I had to hit the brakes fast. I said, "Are you freaking kidding me??" Then Casey piped up from the backseat: "Are you freaking kidding us, Bus??" Eh. At least I didn't say the other F word.
