I know my husband and I have gotten too busy when we begin to bicker through text messaging. A few weeks ago, such was the case.
Our morning began with a small request made lovingly.
“When you dress A, please remember to put the barrette in her hair.”
I may live in the genteel South, but my daughter’s barrettes serve more than an ornamental purpose: they hold back her untamed mane. If I don’t have the time for a real conversation with my husband, then scheduling a haircut is a luxury out of reach.
With a rushed family goodbye, I departed for my 8 a.m. class. And just before my second class began, I heard the vibration. In addition to the barrette, I had also asked my husband to snap a picture of the kids at preschool drop-off. Nothing brings sadness quite like missing Pajama Day. But, alas, a picture!
Only my screen seemed to validate distrust and incite a surprising anger.
Two kids. Two smiles. And no barrette.