“You’ve got a lot of hair, Mummy,” Cousin8 told his mother as he prepared to brush his teeth for school.
Tracey’s sister had just stepped out of the shower, having shampooed and conditioned. She grabbed a towel and started to dry her head.
“I know,” she said.
“Have you always had that much?” he wanted to know.
“I’ve cut it short a few times,” she told him. “You’ve seen that.”
“I guess,” he said, sounding a little doubtful.
“Sometimes I grow it long because your dad likes it like that.”
“Really?” he asked, sounding even more doubtful.
“Do you prefer it long or short?”
“I don’t know,” said Cousin8. “Sheesh, Mum.”
“Well Auntie Tracey has more hair than me. Do you like her hair?”
“What?!” he said, his face torn between total disgust and hysterics. “How would I know about that?”
Which was the moment when Tracey’s sister realized they weren’t talking about the same hair.
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“Raising a family on little more than laughs.”