My brother Paul had a policy regarding his oldest child Gerhardt’s hair. Maybe he still does. If so, this policy probably extends to his youngest kid, Heinrich. The policy is something like this:
WHEREAS,
Paul’s head is as smooth as the roof of a freshly waxed VW Bug;
WHEREAS,
Baldness has afflicted him since about eighth grade [as it has his twin, Phil, but I’ll leave him alone for now];
WHEREAS,
Paul thinks it likely that his sons will suffer the same tragic hairless fate;
BE IT THEREFORE RESOLVED that no son of Paul’s shall be made to shear his head hair until he has reached an age where he can in sound mind request such a shearing.
Paul stuck to this for a while with Gerhardt, but eventually the boy’s mane started getting trims. Whether these cuts began of Gerhardt's own volition or due to the fact that he kept smacking into walls and low tables because he couldn’t see through his thick blond blindfold, I’m not sure. All I do know is that policy or no policy, both Gerhardt and Heinrich have longer-than-average hair. And I'm pretty sure they know it.
Last night I dreamt that I was meeting Paul and his kids at a motel. When I arrived they were already there. They found me in the parking lot. I hugged Paul, then Gerhardt, largely without incident. Then I bent to pick up Heinrich. He’s still little. Less than two years old. When I lifted him, he said to me very clearly,
“Just don’t touch the hair. It’s gorgeous.”
Paul has created a monster. At least in my dreams.
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3 comments:
the legalese intro was quite amusing - I laughed, I cried, I chortled. Ok the cryin was from smoke in my eyes from bbq, but still
-el penguino the magnificent
I envy your bbq-ing, el penguino. I will guess...ribs? Seems like a suitable late summer penguin meal. I'm glad you laughed/chortled instead of fumed with anger at the near-insult contained in the second "WHEREAS". I will sleep calmly tonight.
Hilarious!!!
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