The pedicure? Happy experience, even if the sweet little pedicure lady made me self conscious before I left by clucking her tongue and saying "next time we color brows! Brows too light! No good!" (Vanity dinged, I drove straight to Ulta, where I brought a brow highlighter and a new mascara for good measure.)
The haircut? A decidedly UNhappy experience. Anderbug was intrigued at first. There was a fire truck chair with a bell, an Elmo movie playing on the wall, and a variance in the no-candy-for-A ordinance when we handed him a sugary DumDum for distraction. So for a moment, he was cautious but content:
Then the scissor came out. Cautious contentment turned into "OMG! HELP! HEEEEEELP!!!! THIS STRANGE LADY IS TOUCHING ME WITH A SHARP THING AND WHOSE STUPID IDEA WAS THIS ANYWAY?!?!" (Daddy's idea, A. Really. Mama would never torture you like this just for the sake of beauty. Nope. Not your mama, never.)
(Okay, fine, it was all my idea. I'm sure yall are shocked.)
But see how worthy the 10 minutes of torture was? Though it pains me a bit to see the trim aged him a good half year, I happen to think he's even more handsome looking clean cut and all big brotherly.
Now, some rest and relaxation as I enjoy my last Sunday of "me and the boys".