I shall blog. Because as a mother of three under two, I have luxurious amounts of time and wish to spend it extravagantly describing life in the suburbs. That, or the voices in my head need release. Either way.

My son calls me "chipmunk". Well, to be accurate, he calls me something that *sounds* like chipmunk, but might more literally be written as "chet-maak, muma, chet-mak". He does this late at night, while drifting off to sleep, as he pats my hair with his chubby little fingers. Now normally, this would be a sweet, endearing memory that one would cherish for all time, yada yadda yadda. But i can't help but feel that, in this particular case, it's all about context....
See, the only chipmunks my son has ever seen are the Very Dead, Often Unusually Distorted ones which our Killer Cat deposits on the mat outside our porch door. Sad fate to be sure, but because I worry about silly things like disease, fleas and etc., I have been known to scoop said chippies up into a plastic Whole Foods grocery bag and deposit them unceremoniously in our garbage bin. A fact that has not gone unnoticed by my son, who, upon spying any sort of "kitty offering" now gleefully prepares for a march through that much desirable and forbidden of terrain - The Garage - to the large plastic bins that house the family trash. Given that he is a curious tyke, prior to the Dead Chippie Walking routine, I have let him examine the cold, stiff chippie, pointing out the deceased's whiskers, nose, paws and other parts as appropriate.
Why? I don't know why - he seems interested and I can clearly recall the same morbid fascination as a kid, when one of the farm dogs would leave a groundhog to, uh, ripen, in the sunny part of the orchard and my brother and I would carefully examine the same, with apple sticks as our dissectionary tools of choice (ok, it's possible i made that last word up, but the meaning is clear, no?).
In short, my hair reminds my son of a dead rodents'. Actually, it is possible that I somehow remind him of a dead rodent. But I'd like to believe it's just the hair. 'Kay?
Sooo...maybe I need a new cut and color.