Recently, Mr. D reprimanded me as I tried to urge a final sartorial decision on him. "Sweetie, it's getting late. Please, just pick a shirt!" I begged.
"Mommy," he said with 6 year-old sternness as he considered his options one more time, "I care about what I look like."
Okay then.
Here's some more evidence of the young gentleman's personal grooming instincts. Because he certainly didn't learn about the care and feeding of a baby mohawk from us!
(Can't wait to see Grandpa and Nana.
Also looking forward to Wendy's pictures of Satch's party.)
Also looking forward to Wendy's pictures of Satch's party.)
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