Crazy Hair

My youngest son looks like his mama but has my crazy hair. Part of our morning “get out of the house so everyone won’t be late for school” routine is for me to help him tame his hair and get his teeth brushed. This morning, I wet my hand and sprinkled water on his head. A father and son. Water. It was like a baptism in a way.

Except I’m the one who was washed over with love.

Our Declaration of Independence guarantees “The Pursuit of Happiness.” TV commercials promise it if we just buy product X or Y. But sometimes it is the simplest things that bring us the most joy.

My boys bring me that joy. I guess that’s just being a parent. I guess.

I combed is hair and sent him on his way. I put away the comb and looked into the mirror. My hair was sticking up 10 different directions. I tried to tame it but failed.

And then I laughed.

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