Baldilocks and the Three Hairs

It’s no secret around here that my dear husband doesn’t have much going on “up top.” He started balding around the same time we started dating back in January of 1999.

[That doesn’t sound like a coincidence to me…]

The poor guy hasn’t seen a full head of hair since we were in college. And, as the years go by and our children continually refuse to potty train, his scalp becomes more and more visible.

Yes, Brian’s hair is seriously thinning.

And, if you say it like Charlie Sheen—“THIN-ning”—it makes him laugh out loud.

Fortunately, Brian has a good sense of humor about the whole thing. If he didn’t:

1)  he wouldn’t have married someone as sarcastic as me, and
2)  he wouldn’t have agreed to let me share this story with you today.

I repeat, this is a Brian-approved story. I just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea and think I tease him without his permission. At least, not in writing.

Last Thursday, we took the kids to the wonderful Sea Life Aquarium in Kansas City.

Though it’s not the largest or most impressive aquarium I have visited, it was pretty hands-on and interactive.

This was our first time there, and I was very excited to see how the kids would react to all the amazing sea creatures.

As soon as the doors opened, they flitted from one exhibit to the next like a couple of caffeinated gnats.

I tried my best to wrangle them and drag them back through each exhibit so I could impart to them all of my oceanographic wisdom (that I read from a plaque in front of me).

Finally, one of the aquarium workers—a retired teacher—gave me a bit of parenting advice. She said, “Why don’t you just let them go through the exhibits at their own pace? Then you can backtrack if you want to see something again later.”

And while it’s not generally my favorite thing when people give me unsolicited parenting advice, I was actually very grateful. This made our trip so much more enjoyable since I didn’t feel the need to fill their toddler minds with all the data and facts about the mating habits of seahorses.

Though, with knowledge like that, they would certainly be a big hit in the church nursery.

We followed their lead as they ran through tunnels and pressed their little hands and faces up to the glass for a closer look.

They squealed and laughed, and JJ must have said a thousand times, “Averi, come look at this!”

I now know why parents subject themselves to Disney World. It’s the look on those precious, little faces.

The wonder in their eyes. The squeals of excitement.

The $50 funnel cakes.

It was such a fun day out with just the four of us, and I felt particularly sentimental about the whole experience. So, as we made our way to the exit/gift shop—also known as the cruelest thing you can do to a parent of toddlers—I stopped to check out the cheesy photos they took of us when we came in the door. You know the ones. You pose in front of a green screen, they insert a cartoony background, and then charge you an arm and a leg to frame it in cardboard.

Ordinarily, I don’t go for these types of photos. They’re too posed and kitschy for my taste. But, as I already mentioned, I was feeling very sentimental. And, I could tell that my iPhone photos weren’t going to turn out as well as I had hoped.

I gave the man my ticket and waited while he located our photos on the computer.

“Okay, it looks like we have four photos of your family, Ma’am. Here is the first one…”

Naturally, I looked at myself first. (Because we all do that, don’t we?) I thought that I probably should have removed the Marshmallow Man jacket before the photo, but my makeup looked okay. Decent enough to buy so we could have a photo of all four of us.

JJ and Averi both donned their most disgruntled toddler faces. The kind of faces that scream, “Great idea, mom. Instead of enjoying this moment, let’s just photograph it.” You know the face. It looks like this.

After I critiqued myself and the kids in this cheesy, green screen photo, I assessed Brian’s appearance. Of course, I noticed his adorable dimples and the way he looked so happy just hugging his kids. But, I couldn’t help but think that something wasn’t quite right. Something about him just looked off. And that’s when I noticed that his hair was…green. Green. As in the color of algae. (See, I learned something!)

Since I’m a sensitive wife who delicately handles his fragile ego, I exclaimed, “Brian, what the heck is wrong with your hair?!?!?”

He ran over to the computer just in time for me to blurt out to the entire 40-acre gift store, “Ahahahahaha! You can see the green screen through your thinning hair!”

The aquarium employee looked at the photo on the computer screen and said, “Hmmm…interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.”

Really? My husband is the only balding man in all of Kansas City who has visited the aquarium? I don’t buy that for a second.

Bless him, Brian just stood there smiling like, “Well, there goes my lifelong dream of being a weather man. Stupid green screens.”

We laughed through all four of our “hair-raising” photos before we decided to call it quits. We did’t need an $18 picture of Brian with green hair, me with a coat that looked like a comforter, and the kids with scowls on their faces. No, thanks.

But, a few days later, Brian turned to me out of the blue and said, “I know you’re going to blog about my hair. So, you might as well call the aquarium and see if we can get that photo.”

And that, my friends, is how I learned this very valuable lesson:

“’Tis better to pay the $18 now than to let the aquarium delete such good blog fodder.”

(Obviously, this is not the infamous green screen photo, but Brian let me publish it since it is equally as embarrassing. He has titled it “Chrome Dome.” Get it? Dome. Because he’s in one. Nevermind.)

His sense of humor is one of the many reasons I love this man.

That and the way he takes care of the three of us. The way he is with our kids. The way he is with me.

Also, he wields a mean paintbrush.

Brian, I want you to know that I agree wholeheartedly with what my dad says about balding: “You can’t grow grass on a busy highway.”

You know it’s what’s underneath all three of your hairs that matters most to me.