OK, I'll take responsibility for the hair...but the smile? That's all on her. What psychotropic drug was I enjoying in the 1980's that deluded me into thinking brittle, over-permed hair was beautiful? Worse still, I inflicted the sizzling-hot, belgian-waffle iron crimper on my middle sprout's dark, luxurious, virgin mane...why, it seems criminal in hindsight! Being a fastidious mother (with an extra pinch of crr-ayy-zee), I probably drizzled warm maple syrup and melted butter on her head, as well. Sorry middle sprout, I mistakenly thought we were on the razor's edge of 80's coolness.
Clothes were butt-ugly in the 80's.
My deepest and heartfelt apologies, Landrey's Seafood and MC Hammer. Nobody WINS in an ensemble (pronounced 'awhn-sahm-bleh') like this. I could claim I was attending a female referee convention or a juggling conference, but that would be a LIE. I was an over-zealous convert to the 'vertical stripes are SLIMMING' theology. I must have despised my lower body.
Oh, and more hair tragedy.
Over-permed, close-cropped and KFC extra-crispy. You could bowl a 300 with that head of hair! Aren't you inclined to run your fingers through it? It's OK....I've got the band-aids handy. The sprouts grew up quizzically looking at family photos and inquiring, 'Who is the young man always with us on our vacations??' 'Put a sock in it, sprouts. Errr....don't you recognize your lovely and stylish mother!?' In those days, I was Jack's sidekick...the beanstalk....but alas, no longer. Just another of the myriad ways I scarred the sprouts.
I'll end with this one.
Yup, it's the same crimped-hair sprout. It proves I did at one time know how to dress her age-appropriately. And her hair is blessedly normal...see? Photo-journalistic proof of the middle sprout's adorableness quotient. As I recall, that quotient was off the charts......crimper or not.....