I knew it would warm up at some point. 13 delicious degrees! Whoopee! Hoodie weather! Walking weather! Open the kitchen window weather! Come one, come all, watch the snow melting before yer very eyes.

Jay has been away for two days in TO. He has been working on the one fire boat that the Toronto Fire Dept. has, and I guess it is ready for comissioning or something, so he is there working mucho hours and staying over to be able to get there early enough, etc. I will be glad when this job is over, so will he probl'y, those 12 hour days must get to you after a month or so. I know they sure get to ME.

So maybe he will be home tonight and maybe not. If not, then me and Oma are going to watch 'Monsoon'.

What a trip to Haircrafters today with Monty. I usually cut his hair myself and it looks pretty bad, so I decide that we are going to get it done right. I promise him copious good things like lollies and McDonald's and a ride on the automated ride on toys in Eastgate. He nods his big head no problemo mommy.

Then we get there.

The haircutter chick is a little freaky. If you ever go to Eastgate, pop your head into Haircrafters and see for yourself. She has pink popcorn colored hair mixed with black and spiked out to China. She has stud earrings in her schnoz, her lower lip, her eyebrow. She has a tatoo 'sleeve'. She wears hip hugger pants with muscle shirts and studded belts. Get the picture?

She is however, very nice. Sweet, even. But to Monty I am sure she looks like she is going to pin him to a board like a butterfly and torture him. Poor kid. I mean, he looks at me all day. The freakiest I get is when my stupid short hair loses its coolness once I have slept on it and I look like Tom Hulce in Dominick and Eugene. If that is too vague a reference think of a 'slow' kid in say, grade six, with weird thick hair that slopes to one side.

So. He is not buying the whole nice freaky lady thing. He buries his head in my armpit and refuses to come out. I am sitting in the barber chair with him in my lap, trying to excavate his blond head and hold it up so miss studs can get the clippers on him. He is yelling and struggling and kicking her with his winter boots. She was good though, she did not give up. She just kept darting in with the clippers when there was a few free inches of hair sticking out. I held on to him with all of my strength. He kept saying, "Don wanna hayer cut!!" over and over. There were a few spectators enjoying this show on their lunch breaks, standing on the other side of the glass.

This lasted an interminable ten minutes. Then, with one last cliperoo above his ear and one last yelp, it was done. He looked like crap. Not his hair, mind, that turned out great. But his face was all red and spotchy from my super grip and his exertion, and he had been crying, and it honestly felt like we had just been in a bloody car accident or something. But it was done.

So the people outside threw loonies at us and thanked us for providing a gladiator type show, I paid the pink popcorn her ten bucks, and that was that. Monty was happy as a clam after, climbing on the ride on toys and smiling at me with every single one of his teeth. Pleased as punch with himself he was, having been such a brave boy with his hayer cut.

Unbelievable. I had to give the kid a lollipop for bruising my upper arms and kicking a punk rocker.

Okay better go see whats what downstairs. I am letting Sam rollerblade outside right now and as it is his um, second time on RB's I had better poke my head out the door to make sure there is no blood.

Ciao.