the. bungalow. post.

I enjoy Saturday mornings.  Zander is in the kitchen whipping up really tasty oatmeal.  I mean really tasty. 

He once said "Oatmeal is so good.  Its like really good bread thats already been chewed for you."

Wow. Okay. Sure.

This last time I offered him some delicious blueberries to mix in with this porridge.  He flat out refused and gaily cut up his nasty biltong.  (remember?  The raw pieces of meat he had hanging in our spare room.?) Well they finished curing and now they are in the freezer.  I don't mind that so much.  Now I do not have to hold my breath, duck and avert my gaze every time I enter the room with the meat chandelier.

During one of Cora's feedings in the early after midnight hours I looked over at Zander to admire him.  Because yes, I do adore and love him.  But when my gaze fell over his head, my heart nearly defecated from fright.  (hearts can poop if you are really scared.) 
Well, it was not a nightmare. Indeed I was sleeping with the awful reality right next to me. 
bald, Bald, BALD!  As bald as my newborn baby's butt.  The boy is bald!  It happened last night while I was grocery shopping.  I pulled into our carport worshipping the Lord while Mumford & Sons preached over the radio when I saw someone duck behind a dirt mound we have in our back yard.  Typically this would startle me, however, I have two kids and things that go bump in the night are not as potent anymore.  I knew instantly it was Zander by the ornery way he moved and his beady blue eyes glinting in our porch light.  And then I saw why he was trying to hide.

I got out of the car.  "It was an accident!  I didn't mean for it to happen!  But I gave myself an inverted mohawk and had to finish the job" 

Somehow he didnt' realize he took the razor off his shaver?  Or he put on a really short one?  Or what was his excuse?  Anyhow he ended up with a paved road right down the middle of his head.

I'm mortified.  No picture included unless you want to know what it feels like when a heart poops.