Fuzzy Fuzzy Fuzzy
Since we live in Maine, and Zuzu is a baby, and a baby with not much hair, she has worn a hat in public for months. This past week we had a few days of blissfully Springy weather, and the hat came off. And suddenly I was only be able to walk three steps before someone shouted, “The hair! I love the hair!” and old ladies in the grocery stores couldn’t stop themselves from rubbing her head, like she was some kind good luck charm.
I don’t blame them. Her hair is soft and fuzzy and hilarious, and invitingly rubbable. Her bangs come straight out from her forehead at an angle parallel to the floor. The crown of her head has hair that sticks up like a downy duckling.
She is loving freedom from hats, and continues to spend every day laughing hysterically.