Head Room Mom

Have I mentioned that I'm head room mom for my son's preschool?  I'm not sure how that happened.

Actually, maybe I do.  I vaguely recall a meeting where I had to fill out an information sheet, and maybe under the religion question I drew a little devil.  Not unlike this one...

But the devil wasn't holding a pitch fork, it was holding a cup of coffee.

Did I mention it's a Baptist preschool?  I don't think they're so keen on devils.

Because then they made me head room mom.

But two can play this game.  So I cut my son's hair into a mohawk.  Just in time for school pictures.  Because I'm passive aggressive like that...

Rust doesn't like it when I give Austin mohawks.  He thinks it makes us one star people.  But while that may be a little true, what really makes us one star people is eating at Cici's Pizza.  And if we're going to give up one, it should most definitely be the pizza.

So now I have parents dropping off things like bags of candy for various parties.  And I don't feel even a little bit bad when I eat an entire bag by myself.

The gauntlet has been thrown baptist preschool.  Do your worst.  Even if it means damning me to hell.  Because there are worst things out there...like sending missionaries to my door.