I love to have someone comb my hair!

Samson's hair was his strength.  My hair is my weakness.  If someone combs my hair, I am totally at their mercy.

Thankfully, my sons haven't figured this out yet.  I can only imagine the scenario if they should find out:

While brushing my hair, youngest son asks, "Mom, can I have 10 cookies?"

Groggily, I answer, "Yes... that's fine."

"Can I slide down the roof into the wading pool?"

"Sure... whatever."

"Is it okay if I drive the van?"

"Huh?  What?  Uh... okay."  zzzzzzz...

But, right now, it's safe.  No way will I reveal my secret!

Our 8-year-old son really does enjoy playing with my hair, though.  Yesterday, while I was doing some "work" on the computer, he offered to give me a whole new 'do.  So, if I happened to be commenting on anyone's blog at the time and it trailed off into nothingness, I do apologize.  J

Anyway, here is the final result:

And, lest you think that I am encouraging our young son to become a sissy, I will tell you what he called his latest creation... the "wrecking ball hairdo".  That's my boy!!!  J

~Connie~