Hats and Why I Don't Talk to Strangers...

This is little H's favorite hat. We must have about 100 photos of him wearing it. These depict our latest conversation about such said hat:

Me: Your hat is on crooked, Hen. Let me fix it...
Hen: NOoooooooo! No fix it, Mom. No. Leave it be.

Followed by a whole lot of ominous glances - warning me to keep my hands to myself. Which I did. Scouts honor.

He's very protective of The Hat... paranoid that, without warning I might remove it. Geesh, just because I took it off without his permission ONCE. One lousy time... like six whole months ago. A memory like an elephant, I tell ya. So, a word to the wise... don't toucha The Hat.

In other news... I started physical therapy for my foot this week. Take it from me... plantar fasciitis isn't a pain in the foot, but a serious pain in the ass. I've had it for 7 months now, and even after all the incessant stretching exercises, 2 cortisone shots in my heel and wearing an incredibly uncomfortable splint at night, I can't seem to get any relief. So here's hoping that PT will do the trick. Of course during my first visit... while I'm sitting there, minding my own business, with my foot all wrapped up and awaiting treatment, a woman approaches me (and Flynn, who was looking rather fetching... or so I thought). She smiles at me, then smiles at Flynn and says... "Aawww. Either your mom needs to do some wash, or you're a little boy." Huh?? I was like - Say again?? Seriously. I tried not to take offense... but had no idea how I was suppose to respond. Sure Flynner has horrific reflux and most days can pass as the Doublemint twin of Linda Blair... but only his burp cloth/vomit blanket had been christened (at that point) on the morning in question. Hmmm, Little boys are dirty in general terms, I suppose... I get it. But honestly, why would you say anything even remotely like that to a complete stranger? Was it meant to be funny? Cute? Rude? I don't know and don't much care... but she stuck around for a full 15 minutes chattering away about who knows what - I mean, after that humdinger of a conversation opener, I had pretty much quit listening. Instead I was secretly wishing that Flynn would put an end to it all and politely projectile vomit all over her lovely linen suit... But alas, he didn't ablige and it never happened. Although, on our way home we enjoyed a wonderful little discussion about "Opportunities Lost."

And now you must excuse me...
while I go and pressure wash Flynner's car seat.