(Actually, although I am not engaged in any agricultural endeavor, I imagine that sheep are sheared in the Spring, since they would have their heavy winter coats on then. Though I guess that sheep might be really dumb, and grow heavy coats for the summer, but that seems like something that should be beyond even the stupidity of sheep. But I guess that if one of them did it first, the rest would follow).
The other day, Margaret was on a nap strike, and so when we went to the grocery store in the afternoon, she nodded off in the car. And it was all very sweet and nice and lovely.
Except that as I looked more closely, I realized that she had tangled herself in her hair.
And so we cut her hair. And I have not yet taken a picture of it, because I am a bad parent who is not living up to my side of this blogging bargain, but I’ve been awfully busy, and one of these days I will be living in my own house and things will be less fraught, and there will be more blogging.
When I do take a picture of her, I will post it, and you can see how cute she looks with her bob. I think I will read her Bernice Bobs Her Hair as a bedtime story tonight, so she can understand how transgressive my parenting would have been in 1920.
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