Norman! Norman!

I don't know how it is in most families, but in our family the ladies like their hair brushed.  Yes, we do.  My mom used to undergo all manner of little girl barrette torture to get her hair brushed.  I am ashamed to say most of the time when she asked me to brush her hair, I said no.  Bad daughter.  I always thought if she'd grow her hair long then I would brush it a lot, but she never did...until she was like 69...but now we don't live near each other.

Well, unlike me, ungrateful wretch that I was, some of my kids like to brush and especially style my hair.  Again, if you really like your hair brushed, you are none too picky.  Lily is a firm brusher but reasonably does well, especially since she knows what getting your hair ripped through feels like.  Ben?  Ben, Ben, Ben.  Let's just say I think I may know why Norman's mother was so demanding in Psycho.  Ouch!  Boys are violent brushers, at least boys who are not Fabio.  Ben is a sweet boy, but he twists and yanks and occasionally intentionally pulls out hairs to see if I'm paying attention.  To be fair, he is mostly sweet, asks if he is doing okay so as not to seriously injure me, and did this lovely number this morning:

He was a bit disappointed I didn't wear it to church.

Did I mention my kids also give massages?  It's a little like a circus performance but, as with the hair brushing, the good outweighs the bad, and I always, ALWAYS feel loved through it all, even though there is the occasional grimace on my face.