Yesterday, the plan was for Biggy to take Lo to her softball party at the park, from where Mamoo was to pick her up to spend the night. Mamoo, ever vigilant over her youngest granddaughter's stubborn tresses, had made Lola an appointment with a "master stylist" later in the afternoon, an engagement Lola had readily agreed to but was having second thoughts about. Even after we convinced her that "haircut" wasn't secret code for "getting shots" (she has little trust in Mamoo since Jack's last visit to the doctor) and that she could tell the stylist how short she wanted it, she was still working up a low-grade tantrum when I left with my drill sergeant, George, to WALK to the Y to work out (thus burning 200 extra calories). When I returned from watching Best Week Ever on the elliptical machine, I found this on my keyboard.
2 comments:
Well played, Lo, well played.
yeh, and ,miss lo cost me $54.00 (inc. tip)to lose about ONE inch of hair with her "DONNN'TTT CUT IT TOOOOOO SHORRRRTTT" to the master stylist. who was paying her anyway?
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