Drue loves to brush my hair. And I love having my hair brushed.
Sometimes, however, I have to cut our sessions short because it relaxes me so much and makes me so sleepy that I fear my motherly duties will suffer should someone require my attention right away and I am snoozing away on the couch.
She wanted to brush my hair this evening but we had to run an errand so I told her she could do it when we got back. She remembered this promise about 5 minutes before their bedtime so I let her do her magic for a bit.
She grabbed my brush, a comb, and Tate's plastic pliers and got to work. Reese and Tate were sitting either side of me on the couch watching. In a flash, Tate disappeared. I figured he was plotting mischief seeing that I was otherwise occupied so I called out to him.
He didn't answer but I was already halfway in my hair brushing trance so I was just going to let him get away with whatever he was doing....this time.
A few seconds late he reappeared, with a big grin on his face, carrying my straightening iron. What a cutie! He scrambled back to his spot and started (halfway gently) doing my hair with it.
Of course my trance was now shattered but who cares?
Tate still seems so little to me, that I forget he is turning into a real little boy with real little thoughts and real little plans to carry out those thoughts.
I figured his plan evolved one of two ways:
"Drue looks like she's having fun. I'm going to go find something to do Mommy's hair with too. I think I'll head up to that place where she always fixes herself up." (And just happened to stumble upon my straightening iron.)
"Hmmmm....I think I'll run upstairs and get that red clicky thingy that Mommy plays with in her hair but always tells me not to touch because it's hot!".