The Day My Hair Was Shaved

Dennis asked if he could change his name to Shadow recently.  When I asked why, he told me it's because his name is getting kind of boring and old.  I told him that although Shadow was a fine name, he probably couldn't change it.  Too much paperwork involved and Dad and I had specifically picked his name just for him.  He then asked if it could be his new nickname as he doesn't really care for Dennis.  So.  He has nicknamed himself Shadow.  Officially.  Because it is cool and fast (in his own words).  I just cannot for the life of me figure out why that was never on any of our name lists when he was born.  Although I think I shall stick to Dennis on the blog.  It would be quite confusing to switch to Shadow all at once.  Maybe if you see him out and about you could say, "Hey Shadow, how's your summer been,"  or "Shadow!  My man!  I haven't see you around in awhile."  You know, stuff like that, just to humor him.  I'll have to test it out as well.

And then Q, that Q...whatever will I do with him.  He is just a giant creative, imaginative, curious spirit full of endless energy and ENERGY.  Anyway, he wanted to brush my hair the other day so I sprawled out on the carpet and read a magazine, excited for some "pampering", or as close to pampering as an energetic three-year old can get.  He first ran to the bathroom for what I thought to be water.  Turns out it was the hand soap.  I found out after he squirted a few nice squirts on my noggin.  I told him not to use soap on my hair anymore and he proceeded to brush it and massage the little puddle of soap into my scalp (which honestly was heavenly).  The brush felt a little strange... nice and brushy, but strange, so I checked it out.  It was a toothbrush.  Miss B's toothbrush to be exact (yes, she was thrilled).  I took that away and told him to find a real brush.  He ran off and quickly came back and resumed brushing.  Mind you I was reading a magazine and was a little preoccupied, although I should have learned my lesson at this point.  This time the brushing felt singularly different.  Like nothing I've ever felt when brushing my hair. Upon investigating, I found it to be a shaver from dad's shaving drawer.  Hopefully I didn't lose too many hairs in the process.  And then he asked if I needed a cut.  I said the wash and shave were just fine thank you.  So my hair survived liquid soap, a toothbrush and a shaver.  It was like no salon I've ever been to.  I wonder if a hand soap massage and a good shave-brushing is good for the locks?

Later I brushed my teeth and my mouth tasted a bit like vanilla and soap.  Come to find out, Q had been washing my toothbrush for me.  So lovely.  It brings to mind episodes from Dennis the Menace.  Maybe we should change Q's nickname to Dennis and name the original Dennis, Shadow.  Hmmm.  Thought-provoking to be sure.  In the meantime I shall try and stay a half step ahead of that Q instead of eight behind.  I am hoping he will channel all of that great creative energy and do something amazing with it one day.