Now we can see your eyes again

When I was a child the first hairdresser I went to was with my Dad. It was called Pierre's, and you can probably guess he was French, quite a traditional barber, he did a brilliant mohawk on my Dad once, nah I'm actually joking. At the time I thought it was very exotic but I also thought the Onion Johnnys we saw likewise.

So it is quite ironic that the kids currently get their hair cut and styled by Madame in our house, she being half Pierre's nationality. Number 1 son might have to accompany me to The Stevie Show, but maybe Madame will fashion a nice mullet for the wee chap, especially is he causes more sleep deprivation.

There was barely a minute spare today. Another bad night for the boy we call Snufflemeister General, which actually transformed into a bad day, him being sick twice. In between all this 'excitement' we went to get our Christmas tree. Tonight post the second vomit-apocalypse it was all hands on deck, well all of mine and I'm only now having a breather. So much to do, I'll need to morph into several manifestations of myself to get through the next 3 weeks.

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