It was hard to get out of bed this morning and then when biking in to work I felt as though I had missed the memo that said everyone was to have the day off and stay buried in bed, with head under pillows, surrounded by two cats.

Jakob had a hair cut this weekend and after describing what I wanted and measuring how much to cut off (long enough to keep the curls), I settled in to a chair and started reading my book. Suddenly the sound of a electric razor pulled me from my passage and I found him beginning to look like the poster child for a Hitler youth organization. My jumping out of the chair with such force that I banged my head on the metal dryer overhead startled the "stylist" enough to stop him. He said "don't worry, don't worry, I'll leave back long."

Nooo, because that would give Jakob the worst mullet since Billy Ray Cyrus haunted us all with his Achy Breaky Heart.

I should have known better than to do anything but stand militantly on guard, ready to grab scissors out of his hand at a moment's notice. Instead I was sucked in by the large flat screen TV playing the pixtar movie Cars and that Jakob had enthusiastically squeezed himself into the car-shape seat.

I had also chosen to completely ignore the the smell of weed.