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Jack will be three next June. He is my grandson. Daddy took him to get his hair cut yesterday afternoon. Jack didn't seem to mind his first haircut a year or so ago. Now he does mind. VERY much. They were gone a long time.
When they returned, daddy looked like a whipped dog. "Jesus Keerist! He was wild. Manic. I finally had to sit in the barber's chair, put a bear hug on him, and hold his head still. He fought me every inch of the way. I need a drink and then I'm going to bed."
Jack walked up to mommy with a big smile on his face. "I were BAAAAD." Then he walked into the dining room and climbed up into his time-out chair. Self inflicted punishment. Stoic. Might as well get it over with.
Mommy and daddy started laughing and went in and busted him out of stir. Was this a carefully laid plan to escape punishment? hmmmm
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