Upon Logan's insistence, we took the boys for haircuts. While I loved watching Logan's flowing locks blow in the wind as he ran like a gazelle, his hair was driving him crazy. And we are foolish enough to think that it will one day be warm here in the Pacific NW that we figured short is better.
The other day we got home from school, and I made the boys their usual afternoon snack. Routine calls for hand-washing and then homework while they eat their snack. But on this particular day, I was pleasantly surprised to walk in to the dining room to find both boys working assiduously on unassigned creative writing: comic strips. They both just wanted to write stories. Now, these tales included blood and death, of course, but I am thankful for baby steps. They were writing. And there was no hair in their eyes.
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