Quickie

Fuzzie Wuzzie was a bear, that's what always comes to mind when I see Baby B's head of hair (of course, nothing detracts from his cuteness). I swear the older he gets (8 months old on Saturday), the fuzzier, more flyaway it gets. Actually, I think the same thing happens when you get old. You lose your hair and what's left looks like a silver patchwork quilt or maybe only the fringe.

It's so interesting how much small children share the same characteristics as their very elder counterparts or maybe I should say relatives. I wonder if certain brain cells or brain functions align themselves at certain thresholds of very young and very old ages. It would appear that is true from my experience. Perhaps I should use this as the subject for my thesis.

Oh wait, first I have to have an undergraduate degree. Oh, never mind, it all feels like way too much effort and who really cares. By the time I'm acting that way, I won't know any different and it's only everyone around me who will have to deal with it.




(Here's where I give you the "raspberries"!)