After an hour of wrestling with the kids I was dehydrated and panting like an out of shape old woman. Hair askew and tangled clothes and a couple of bruises later we were crashed out on the floor and the youngest girl looks at me and asks.
“Auntie Nina, are you wearing a wig?”
“No.” I replied. “Why? Is it coming off?”
You’ve gotta love the things kids ask without hesitation. Social cues are so different when you’re young. So – apparently, now that my hair is actually growing back, it looks like a wig. Fantastic!
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