don't call her maid marian

Tonight should have been a night for a hair cut. I had a mind to buzz the whole tired mess off with the clippers, but I think maybe I've grown too old for such stunts. Which, suddenly, in typing that I realize that it's not I who has grown too old, it's my child. She has reached the age of thinking her mama is quite charming and funny at home, but, well, not so much when we're out someplace. And that sobered my frustration and I'll wait until I can carve out a block of time with the scissors. I'm not so sure I'm ready anyway to go super short again, it's been -what?- four years? The rest of the family is lobbying for continued growth, but I've reached about my maximum tolerated length and it's driving me nuts. I'll probably default to my usual swingy bob, but this time I'll cut it again sooner than eight months (as in, yes, I haven't cut my hair since March!).

And, since maybe my diy haircut deserves it's own, special entry, I should at least wait until I'm together enough to take a picture or something. I've been saying for weeks that I'd do it "tonight" but every time I get to "tonight" it doesn't work out. Rather than force the issue, the girl and I skipped out after dinner and ran up to the goodwill (Oh, St. Vincent, I meant all those things I said about you, but Goodwill and I? We've been together a long time and I can't just turn my back on all that. Please understand.) in search of supplies for a crafty gift idea for far away family.

Did we find what we were looking for? Of course not. But we spent some lovely thrift store time together and managed to come away with a couple of books, a shirt for the girl and an old Ravensberger game:

Robin Hood! Which, to my girl, was like finding a bucket of money in the street. She was obsessed by the story at age 3 from seeing the classic disney film. And though she still counts that silly animated movie with foxes and bears among her very favorites, she has extended her love for the story to include books and any other reference at all. She was Robin Hood for Halloween when she was four:

I never imagined that last minute costume, stitched out of an old, holey blanket, would still be seeing daily imaginative use five years later. . . but it does. It's hanging on her bedroom doorknob as I type. Her Robin Hood love is longstanding and it was a good night to go to the Goodwill.

My little guy was all bathed and pajama'd and ready for bed when we got home. Ira Glass and I nursed him down (as in, I listened to This American Life while the boy fell asleep) and then I came out about fifteen minutes later to see the game all set up and the husband and daughter waiting for me. We all adore the boy, so cute we can't so much stand it (and he is, too. so cute. the cutest. a thousand fuzzy kittens cute. but certainly as busy and dangerous and challenging as he is cute. thank goodness for the cute.) and our family is so much better for having that very special person around, but unexpected moments to play new board games while the little one sleeps are so special, too.