When I got back from getting my hair highlighted on Friday (I'm blond again...like really blond!), Sam inspected my hair and asked if I went to "What Not to Wear" to get it done.
Then he went off to play "What Not to Wear" again--which is him trying on all my shoes, including my high heels, and walking in front of the mirror and saying things like, "Oh, you look great!"
No, I'm not worried.
Yesterday, we were driving through our neighborhood and a small, old lady was driving the car in front of us. When she turned (slowly) onto a side street, Sam said, "We don't go on that street because it's a street for old people, huh?"
Then, as if that wasn't funny enough, he added, "When we are old, like 100, do we go on that street to die?"
Even more laughing. And because