I have tomorrow off, but Lyla still gets to go to school. For one, our lawn is so far gone that it's like Honey I Shrunk the Kids out there. Plus, the dogs have a grooming appointment. And I have a grooming appointment. And I'm having lunch with my mom.
The various grooming appointments remind me of when we were on the pink blanket at the Renaissance Festival. Lyla spent some time picking grass out of the ground and cramming it in her mouth. Then I lifted her up and put her on my shoulders, and Julie observed that she was trying to pick the hair off my head just like the grass. So Lyla thinks grass and Daddy's hair are the same thing. Awesome.
I'm sort of glad she can't talk yet: "Daddy, why is your grass thinner and graying?"
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