Je Ne Sais Quoi

{our matching noggins}

Baby Bean was born with a head full of thick dark hair. 

My nurse, midwife, and family can all testify that he came out squawking and with a hairstyle. 

The squawking is still just as loud as ever, but the hair is no longer the same. 

All of those baby hairs fell out. every.single.strand. 

Over a matter of weeks, he went from a faux hawk-to a combover- to a very unfortunate two-day episode of looking like a mini Kim Jong Il with a bout of baby acne-to a mullet-to three stubborn strands firmly rooted on the top of his head. then those fell out as well. 

oh how we laughed. and laughed. and laughedandlaughedandlaughed. 

Until, my hair...

my head full of thick dark hair, 

began falling out. 

things got serious.

Fortunately, I had a lot of hair to begin with. 

Unfortunately, I had a lot of hair to lose. 

Pretty much, I get a haircut in the shower with every shampoo and condition session, 

and the amount of sweeping and vacuuming going on would make you think that we own a dog. or a shetland pony. or a dog riding on a shetland pony, all over the house. 

 I think things are gonna be ok though.  

As I was picking out my breakfast at {Nuvrei} the other day, the girl taking my order looked at me, at me! and said, "I love your hair! It looks, I don't know, so healthy!" 

Your. Hair. Healthy. Love. 

Those words, spoken so nonchalantly, yet so timely in the middle of a picturesque pâtisserie downtown, and what I thought was the beginning of a bad hair day. 

Inwardly, I wanted to shout, "oubliez le croissant jambon et fromage. donner à cette fille une augmentation! Which is a {horrible} french translation for, "Forget the ham and cheese croissant, give this girl a raise!"

Or dance on the table, while throwing handfuls of colorful macarons into the air. 

In the end, I decided to...

give her a tip. 

Lame. 

xoxo

{Bon Bon}