Double take

Friday morning, the boys got haircuts. I don't want to make this sound worse than it is (grandmothers, please remain calm), but Miss Lolly went a little crazy with the clippers. I suspect that she was exacting a spot of revenge for the fact that I have yet to permit her shears near poor Katie's straggly shag.

So Spencer's curls are now, shall we say, tamed. He looks adorable, of course, and will probably regain his good standing as a mullet-head by the beginning of next week. But he does seem a little older, wiser... and familiar, somehow.

Now it's Monday morning. III has taken IV to school on his way to work, and the terrible two are tearing around the house, powered by yogurt smoothies. Spencer comes dashing through the kitchen, looking for trouble (and, it should be noted, wearing hand-me-down pajamas). Then he turns his head to grin at me.

"Oh. My. God," I think in a nanosecond of panicked disorientation. "Trey has taken the WRONG CHILD to school."

Take a look and tell me what you think:
It would be helpful for comparison purposes if I could find a picture of Carter at this same age. But when Carter was just shy of 22 months old, we were apparently still recovering from the shock of our BOGO surprise. So the few pictures we have from this month prominently feature my distended, distorted belly button, and trust me: no one needs to see this on a Monday morning.

While perusing old pictures, though, I came across the following illustration of life with F5.

Here's what Trey looks like at the beginning of the weekend: weary from the workweek, but eager for quality time with the fam:

Now, observe the transformation wrought by sixtysomething straight hours of demands for Daddy's full and complete attention.

Shocking, isn't it?

Thanks for your hard work, big guy. Now have a good break... I mean, DAY at the office. Love you, hoosband.