I'm going to the mall to get them haircuts at the cool place where you sit in the jet or the car (or the 1950's Mr. Miyagi-gift-to-Daniel-san convertible) and I'm walking in with a 3 year old who chose his own clothes and dressed himself (and almost even matches! But not quite.)
Also he's wearing a Batman mask.
Along with an almost two-year-old who's wearing two different shoes. Not even the right feet (they were both right feet, actually.) One open-toed sandal and one Lightning McQueen croc. But he had put his own shoes on and was already at the door and was so darn proud of himself.
Who am I to crush this creativity and independence, right?
So we looked like a circus. So what. Cracks me up. I love it.
