Bed-heads and Red-heads...

“Bird! Look, Moma, a bird!”

My eyes follow to where the little finger is pointing. Not seeing a bird, I ask, “What’s that, honey?”

With a little more excited volume in the usually (usually, but not this morning) subdued and soft-spoken voice and a little bigger punch of the finger, she emphatically says, “that bird,” while pointing at the man walking next to us.

I, obviously displaying my blanked-face confusion, am met with an honest and sincerely innocent question about the man. My Blessing asks, “Is that boy a rooster?”

Now, remember, this boy is, in fact, a man. A very large and intimidating man. A very large and intimidating man walking right by us with my daughter’s finger pointed at his head. A very large and intimidating man sporting a bright orange mohawk and a Ronald McDonald-red goatee. Yes, I suppose he did look like a rooster, though I’m not sure he appreciated the association.

There are some things that kids say that are a little bit embarrassing when they’re 2 or 3. Hey, they’re 2 or 3, and kids say funny, though possibly embarrassing, things. But they’re young, and you laugh it off.

On the other hand, there are then those things that are quite a bit more embarrassing when said by your child who will be 6 in less than a week... yes, that would be Blessing #2. (Fortunately, as opposed to his spiked 'do, my hair was down and covered my burning ears!)

To make the situation even more amusing, B#5 was right there with us… sporting his own modified mohawk. He woke up this morning with the went-down-for-the-night-with-damp-hair bedhead… and looks quite a bit like a rooster himself.

And his mohawk is even a little orange.

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