Don't call her Handsome

Last night the kids took a their weekly shower. Si got dibs on the first shower, which meant that I was busy with shampooing Miss Helen, giving her dry rags, complimenting her on her rinsing abilities, etc., while Si was naked and at loose ends. Never a good combination. Before I knew it, this:
Had become this:Also, the kid bathroom was kind of a mess. Also, the haircut actually didn't look as neat as it does here--I first clued in as I was ushering Helen, shivering and wet-haired, into her room, and Silas called out, "Mom? Can you come help me get this even?"

And then when I came in and gasped, etc., he added, "Because I can get the front even but I just can't get the back."

So Hubs had to make a late-night Target run for buzz clippers.

Meanwhile, while we covering a just-cleaned bathroom in hair, I decided to do Helen as well, since her bangs were starting to get into her eyes. The bangs were fine but she was unhappy about the rest of it:
"I look hansome," she sulked, "And I don't want to look hansome!"

"You look absolutely cute," I argued. "It's a perfect little bob."

"But I want LONG hair," she said. "Like yours."

"I hate my hair," I pointed out. "Also, you don't really like barrettes or pony tails."

"I don't want to look handsome."

Well. So we have fuzzhead, who cheerfully says, "I really look terrible!" And Miss Handsome.