The other day, David gently asked me the following question:
"Caroline is starting to sport a little mullet, don't you think? What should we do about that?"
And I replied: "What mullet? I see no mullet."
I will admit, on rare occasions, but only from certain angles, you can sometimes spot the telltale
Business in the front
Party in the back
signs of a mullet. But that's just when the light catches her hair the wrong way. We are nowhere NEAR the point at which we have to consider taking my baby, my LAST BABY, to the hair butcher to get shorn of the locks that were on her head on the day she was born, are we? No, I didn't think so.