Perhaps wonderland is too strong a word.
Each morning, my twin daughters act like it's a big surprise when I call them over to get their hair brushed. Their eyes grow large and round in bewilderment, and they begin yelling indignantly.
"I don't WANT my hair brushed!" one screams into the cruel universe. "You're a MEAN mommy!" the other hisses at me. "NOOOOOOO!!!!" they both shriek, and off they run to hide behind the recliner in the family room. EVERY SINGLE MORNING.
Normally, this behavior annoys me. After getting their hair combed daily for the past 4 years, they continue to express shock and horror when I walk out of the bathroom with a hair brush and stack of rubber bands in my hand. Today, however, as I looked through the window at the snow that I know good and well falls out of the sky each and every year around this same time, I finally understood my girls' complaining.
It's a matter of principle.
Dinner last night: shredded pork enchiladas
Exactly one year ago:
Exactly two years ago: