Don't hold back - tell me what you really think

Jacob is always one to share his opinions with me - whether it be "you have little fuzzy hairs growing over your lip, no really, you do, Mom" or whatever comes to his mind. He has quit sharing this particular opinion after a few lessons in "what women don't want to hear."

Sunday morning he told me my hair was whooshie. Of course I had to ask what whooshie meant and in his world it means that my bangs are now so long they hang down straight about 4 inches and then whoosh backwards. Think Farrah Fawcett feathering without the body. (hair and physical) He had a great down and backward hand motion to go along with his definition, showing me exactly what whooshie means. Looking in the mirror, I had to agree with him.

Monday afternoon found us at Wal-Mart where I bought a head band to try to fix the whoosh factor. Jake doesn't care too much for the headband either as he told me my hair was now whacked.

Tuesday, I tried the headband from the first thing in the morning and put it on after I combed my hair normally, but while it was still wet. The verdict - my hair was now whapped.

Wednesday, I combed my wet hair straight back and placed the headband on, going out to the kitchen for my daily dose of the W critique. When I asked him what W word he could come up with to describe my hair today - he just looked at it for a moment before giving his solemn opinion. Worse. That kid cracks me up.

For once I am glad he is not the world's greatest speller - I'm sure he probably thinks wretched starts with an R.