People Don’t Like Plaid

It’s picture day at school today. I allowed myself to be talked into cutting everyone’s hair last night and boy, do we look homemade. Poor Noodle has two bald spots and Roo’s ears definitely need some camouflage. Bean… oh Bean. I should never have agreed to cut her beautiful hair. I’m all about cutting whatever costs we can, but damn. My children look like orphans boarding a train for safety during WWII. It ain’t good, man. (For what it’s worth, Bean likes her haircut, but I still don’t understand why.)

So. Haircuts are done and there is absolutely nothing we can do about it. Maybe there’s salvation in clothes? Melissa picked out button down shirts and nice pants for the boys and Bean wore a gauzy shirt with jeans – completely practical for a 50-degree, rainy Idaho fall day. Roo proceeded to have an absolute meltdown because HE HATES BEING FANCY. It took a while, but I finally got to the bottom of his objections: people don’t like plaid. I was unaware of this, but apparently it’s common knowledge amongst second graders. Noodle confirmed this notion, but was ok with wearing the dreaded tartan because it “wouldn’t show if he spilled any lunch on his shirt”. Homemade haircuts? Check. Evil plaid shirts spattered with spaghetti sauce? Check check. The world’s worst school photos? Triple check that box.

I was nearly done with the boys when Melissa walked in from dropping Bean off at school. The gasp I assumed was for my handsome men actually turned out to be a silent scream as she discovered that Boogie had found a black Sharpie and decorated about half of the white kitchen cabinets, the hardwood floors, his sister and the entire door of the oven. I swear, we were in the room under four minutes. (Maybe plaid can also bend time?) Now the whole place smells like an operating room because rubbing alcohol is the ultimate solution to Sharpie ink. Boogie’s turned Pook into plaid of a different sort and she’s not interested in getting it off her skin. Maybe I’ll leave it – I didn’t cut her hair, so it really just helps her blend in to the rest of the shitshow.

I refer to our family as a five ringed circus often. And circuses have attractions, right? I’m envisioning us as one of those big wooden picture things with the holes cut for someone to stick their head through. Bean is the flexible wonder in a spangled leotard and the boys are a matched set of seals with big red balls balanced on their noses. Boogie is, of course, the 500 pound man. Pook’s an octopus flailing through a ring of fire. Melissa and I both have top hats and bullwhips. And all of us, every last one, are wearing a plaid shirt.