So I think my kids are plotting how to give me a heart attack before the age of 30. Oh I am over reacting? I think not. Saturday night, from what I can gather...LaLa scaled my counter tops in the kitchen and grabbed a pair of sewing scissors out of a cabinet. Then KiKi decided to give herself and LaLa haircuts. This is the carnage of KiKi's hair...
Can we say heart attack? I spent an hour crying, five minutes on the phone with my brother getting laughed at by him and his best buddy, fifteen minutes on the phone with my gran getting the "you did it too" speech, and fifteen minutes on the phone with my mom getting the "I can't believe you let this happen" speech. Sunday morning I took them to my friend Nigel who is the manager at the barber shop on base to see if he had anyone at the shop who could fix it.
This is what I got...
Dorothy Hamills....

Sigh.
Oh and more than once I have had a spider try to land on me as I was walking out my front door. Not cool spiders, not cool.
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