Thursday, August 11, 2005

 

In Which Things Get Hairy...

Did you know? Apparently I neglect my daughter.

I was told this the other night as we sat at a baseball game. The Brownie can't be bothered to watch grown men run around the field chasing balls, so she spent the early part of the game drinking in the profanity-laden conversation of the burly men seated in front of us (which would ultimately make for a lively drive home). At intervals, though, she bestirred herself, especially when someone with a pneumatic gun came out onto the field and launched merchandise into the stands.

"Get me that shirt!" she screamed as the rolled-up garment sailed 40 feet over my head into the upper deck. Daddy tried to explain that even Plastic Man would have pulled a muscle trying to snag that one out of the air, but she just gave me The Look, which she downloaded from HerLovelySelf.com. "You could have jumped," she said. And with that began a two-inning harangue that made me wish I HAD jumped.

THE LOOK:




Below, a random excerpt:

"Daddy, why didn't you get me an ice cream before?"

"Because, honey, you were hot and thirsty and asked for lemonade. That's what I brought you. Plus M&Ms, I might add."

"Yeah, but you didn't TELL me they had ice cream!" Then she gave me The Other Look, one of her own design. I think she thinks she's furrowing her brow at me in a very you-shouldna-oughtta-done-that way, but she obviously hasn't practiced this one in the mirror because she ends up puckering her lips in such a manner as to make her look like a pissed-off fish.

THE OTHER LOOK:




(Hmm. Actually, it may work better than a furrowed brow.)


"Also," she continued, as if she were imparting some big news. "I'm mad at you."

"Oh?"

"Yes. All's you do is do things with Thomas. And not with me!"

Ah. The old you-love-him-more-than-me gambit, one I remember using during the great emotional chess matches of Mom vs. MM, which took place throughout the 1970s.

"You mean aside from every night when it's just you and me walking Blazey? Or this weekend, when I spent 18 hours helping you learn to ride the bike? Or how I helped you write a letter to the lady with the white eyelash last week [long story]."

She blinked several times. "But! You helped him do his pictures on the computer and not me."

I shrugged. "Okay. That's fair. We can put up some pictures of the gourds you painted. I didn't think--"

She made the pissed-off-fish face again. "No, I mean ME! I want me on the computer. So Grammy and Grandpa can see. You never do it."

Aside from this entry.

And this one.

And this one.

Oh, and that one.

I reminded her of one or two instances where I might possibly have gone on about her at length, with pictures.

That quieted her down. For four seconds. Then she said, in a sing-songy voice. "What have you done for me lately?"

"What?!?" I asked.

"Oooo-ooo-ooo-yeah," she added, as an afterthought.

"Okay," I promised, sensing I was losing this chess match, but having no desire to be lectured further in pop lyric form. "I will write something just about you this week."

"All right," she said. "Something special."

"Like what?"

"Like my white hair."

So to sum up, I told you that to tell you this:

Both my children were born with full heads of hair. Thomas, weirdly, had a great shock of dark red hair that morphed into curly red hair before turning blond practically overnight. The Brownie, though, was born with the same hair she has now--completely brown, with one exception: in the back, she has a strip of platinum blonde hair. I first saw it when she was about 40 seconds old.

"What's that?" I asked the nurse, as she was wiping goop off my newborn daughter.

The nurse gave me some kind of medical term for it, but basically, it's the follicular equivalent of a birthmark. Even this summer, as her hair has started to show the same blonde streaks her mother has, that one strip still stands out.

hairfin

I shared this image with a friend, who was impressed. "She's like Rogue from the X-Men," I was told.

It's true.

In fact, she's already absorbed my wife's power to boss me around.

Yours,
From Somewhere on the Masthead


Comments:
My, what a cute pouty face! I have a similar off-color shock of hair but in my case, it's not a cool "Rogue" birthmark...it's just me, getting gray hair.
 
Oh, my word. Read it all, followed all the links.

The. Brownie. Is. Something. Else. Again.

Tell that Brownie that she is extremely famous now, in my house.
 
"Absorbed your wife's power to boss you around!"

Hahaha....that's funny!
 
Dear Brownie:

You go girl! Keep that Daddy (and all the other boys of the world) on their toes!

I really like your White Hair. I wish I had a secret streak of white hair! I'll bet if you french-braided your hair, it would look really cool!

My little girl Twinkle (your brother calls her The Twinkie ;) says to say "Hi!" and she really wishes that she had a Foxhole like you do! What a great place to play and read books!

Let me know when your Daddy starts your Blog, and I'll link to it right away! :)

T.
 
MM, I knew this was gonna happen. Knew it.

Brownie - you keep on absorbing those powers from your mommy. Practice them, make them perfect, and then use them on men everywhere - you will go far in life :p Nothing like a woman with brains and a great pout!!
 
They do begin training young don't there.

I am really sorry for the guy that is going to fall madly in love with the brownie (when she grows older), because he is going to have to live up the daddy's standard. And by that he needs to do more than jump. He better know how to fly.

yes ... they do start young.
 
Hmmm, cute little bossy girls. Got one of them myself. Course, mine has adorable curly hair instead of the awsome streak of blonde (women pay money for that kind of thing!). My husband is constantly asking me if I was like her when I was little, and if so we are all in big trouble. From what I hear, it only gets worse!
 
The caption for the first picture should read "If looks could kill". I got a cold shiver from just looking at that first picture of her stare.

Well, Looks like you have all of the kids covered now and I don't think HLS really wants her pictures on here.

I remember what happened last time.
 
I love the fact that she has already absorbed the power to boss you around. That is great.
 
Oh my are you gonna have your hands full when she hits her teen years! That streak in her hair alone will make her infamous...do you know how much some women would pay for that? Her "pouty face" reminds me of one my son has mastered...they have the power to make it look like all the injustices in the world have befallen them and it's momma and daddy's fault for not preventing it. If someone could bottle a toddler's ability to create guilt with just a LOOK (guilt that usually results in getting what they want) they would make a mint!
Tell her I enjoy hearing stories all about her just as much as I enjoy her brother's work!
 
that's one great pout --- my dad still has my best pouty faced picture (age 3) in his office.

MM, you realize that you don't stand a chance, right?
 
Ah, the old "What have you done for me lately?" routine. Ouch.

She has awesome hair, though. I'm jealous. People pay top dollar for that Look!
 
Cool hair! Good super-power too. :)
 
I hardly think that neglecting either one of your children is something you could be accused of.

But children demand so much! At least she wants to spend time with you - I remember when I was about The Brownie's age, telling my mother to leave me alone because I was fed up with her company. of course, the minute she tried to spend time alone with my sister it was a different story!

As for her "Rogue"-ish streak, I had a very similar one down both sides of my hair, that would fade over winter and them reappear in the summer sun. But it certainly is stiking.
 
Those pictures are priceless! What a cutie. How you managed to side step those super rays shooting from her eyes and not crumbling into a pile of dust is beyond me.
 
"...but she just gave me The Look, which she downloaded from HerLovelySelf.com." What a brilliant line! My roommate and I just had a good chuckle over that one. I hate to say it, MM, but you certainly have some troublesome years ahead of you. Just wait til she hits the 'tween years!
 
That's Daddy's lil girl, now and always. By 15, she will have perfected the look. I feel for you.
 
Your little girl's so cute!
And, I can just imagine, so charming and smart, too!

P.S. Would like to put a link on my blog to yours, if you won't mind.
 
You are going to be in such trouble when she reads that one of her looks resembles a pissed off fish.
 
She's adorable. But demanding, my goodness! I was like that too when I was a kid, except that I was quite perceptive and exercised my powers in very subtle ways...through tears and pouting, primarily. I was quiet but I got what I wanted. Is it any wonder that I like your little girl? ;-)
 
Cool!
 
I just read the McDonald's story. Frighteningly, it makes me realize that my heinous job ain't all that bad.
 
Ahh, the oldest trick in the daughter book - I have to say that I know it well...from the pouty lip to the blatant attempts at guilt, she's certainly practicing for her teenage years. I like a girl with spunk! :)

Fantastic hair, by the way - that's really pretty cool.
 
Is your magazine having some sort of quadruple issue or something? How busy could you possibly be that precludes you from posting?
 
Cool blog! If you get a chance you may want to visit this top penis pill website, it is very cool
 
Hi... I was just surfing google looking for what will become of my blond streak as I'm getting older, and I came across your blog. I too was born with a patch of blond hair!

I was told it was called a mallan streak, or something like that but I can't find anything on it. Can't colour it either haha that was fun having pink hair one day. cheers!
 
That is so cool, i have one myself on the left hand side of my hair, just a bit further back than what roughes is in xmen...i didnt have it from birth but remember having it in junior school, we found out that my great nan from my dads side had one :)
Mine is pure white.
 
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