Kramer vs Kramer

No.  I’m not writing about that old movie…  There is no tear jerk at the end of this story.

Instead, I’m writing about the weekend.  The Squeeze instructed that me that I was to have no opinion; he would talk to the kid and suggest he washed his hair, this time with shampoo.  (Perhaps you remember, he had to talk to him, I was to remain silent - in case I trampled on his fragile self esteem.)

Still, I could only imagine his moodle-like, gently-gently, velvet wearing discussion.  I mean why go with totally honesty when you can moodle around his fifteen year old feelings…?  Yeah.  Stuff that.  When the kid waltzed out to kitchen to ask what time breakfast would be ready, I told him that breakfast would happen after he had a shower and washed his hair.

Actually, I said “my eyes are bleeding with the stench of your head.  Wash it already!  This time, use shampoo!!!”  Frankly, I think he would have been too scared not too.

When he came out for breakfast, I noted that his hair looked clean, but somewhat fluffy.  He mentioned that washing it gave it an “old lady hair” visual.  I’m not fond of “old lady” style but Hell, that is better than making everyone’s eyes bleed.

Actually, he looked a little like Kramer; or some other weirdo with that fluffy bit on the top of their head.  But there is more than one way to skin a cat and if his moronic parents had an ounce of brain between them, they’d have instructed him to curb the Kramer hair in a way that didn’t ensure he had zippo friends via killing them off with a stench that could curdle cream.

Yesterday, I purchased him some good old fashioned hair fudge.

Now how fricking hard is that..?