T. is, if I do say so myself, a very handsome fella. He has one of those faces you just want to grab and kiss all over. And he's got the most kissable little lips, ones that are going to make the girls swoon some day. Though shy, he seems to draw in those around him. He does so without saying a word and with almost no effort. He smiles and the room brightens. He's got this amazing aura.
On Saturday, Mr. Schmitty took the boys for haircuts. W. has finally given up the latest trend and cut his long, shaggy locks. He is currently sporting a not-too-short crew with the front spiked up. Very adorable and very easy for him. That's all he cares about at the moment. Ease.
I was cleaning when they came home and had my iPod blaring some P!nk. I jumped a mile high when I turned around and they were standing there staring at me. Once I recovered from my mini-stroke and their ears recovered from my scream, I took a better look at my newly cleaned up boys. I had to do a double take when I saw T. He had the identical cut his brother did. He looked absolutely precious!
And he down right knew it. He grinned ear to ear anytime anyone noticed. He was beside himself. W. told him that the girls would all be chasing him on the playground come Monday. He blushed 4 shades of red. But in his eyes, you could see that he couldn't wait for the weekend to come to a close.
Sunday morning he made sure that I put some "Crew" wax or gel or whatever that gunk is, in his hair. He then jumped up on the vanity and combed his hair up, making sure it looked perfect.
Later on that day, I was talking to my brother in our living room. T. walked in, stopped, and whipped out his sister's compact mirror in one hand and his comb in the other. He fixed his flip and pocketed the mirror and comb. He then continued on his way without missing a beat.
We rolled on the floor laughing.
Monday, after school, I overheard him telling his brother that Zyasia, Emma, Elizabeth, and Sarah all noticed his haircut. I had to duck into my own room to avoid getting caught giggling.
Today when he was getting ready for school, I again helped him with his hair. When I was done, I said, "There you go, does it look okay?" He smiled, then looked deep in thought, he finally said, "I wonder if Miss Meagan will be there today."
Miss Meagan is the teacher's assistant. A pretty little blonde, about 22 years old, that T. has a MAJOR crush on. I told him to stick to girls his own age.
What a little Casanova!