Crazy

"Crazy" is Kate's current favorite word. She uses it all the time, to describe herself, her family, whatever. She likes to run around the house yelling, "Crazy lady!" and sometimes when she prays she says, "Thank you for being crazy." I think she is thanking God that she can be crazy and have fun, but I am really not positive.

A month or two ago I went and got a haircut. I had around 6 or 8 inches taken off, so it looked really different. Plus, my hair has a lot of wave and body to it. The kind that has a mind of its own, and no matter how often you tell it what to do, it just never listens. I would show you pictures, but it just isn't pretty. When it is long, the weight pulls it down, but when it's short it goes a little nuts. In my family we call it Pa-Pa hair because my grandfather had thick, wavy hair that was a little nuts, sticking out everywhere, when he woke up in the morning.

When Kate first saw me with the new 'do, I asked her if she liked it. Her response? "Don't you kiss me with that crazy hair."

The other day she told me, "I like your hair, but it is still crazy." And later, "Your hair looks like Mimi's. She has crazy hair too." Sorry, Mimi, but you know you have Pa-Pa hair too:)