Someone Save Me

Duane and I took the boys to COSI for the afternoon. We had a great time figuring out some mindbender/brainteaser puzzles together, but at one point Ryan wanted a snack and Wesley wanted to continue to do whatever it was he was doing. Duane stayed with Wesley while Ryan and I hit the snack bar for a bag of popcorn.

While we were enjoying our popcorn and water, Ryan suddenly turned serious.

"Mom, please don't ever save me," he said.

"What did you say?" I asked, thinking I must have misheard him.

"I don't want you and Dad to save me."

I was thoroughly confused. "Save you? You don't want us to save you? I don't what you mean."

Ryan sighed. "You know. Take all my hair away. Save me."

"Oh! SHAVE you!" I laughed.

 Earlier in the day Duane and I had been discussing how Ryan would probably rock a shaved head/buzz cut over the summer since he hates having his hair combed so much. "Sweetie, if you don't want to be shaved, we certainly won't make you."

Save vs. shave. Actually, a very important distinction to make.