Q Tip

I learned at an early age to relate to others by teasing. My father is the champion teaser of all time and such was the basis of our relationship. I have carried that over, for better or worse, to my relationship with my son. Being the bright lad that he was and is, he jumped right on board the Teasing Train.

My hair started turning gray at the youthful age of 23, soon after The Boy was born. There is to me an obvious connection between motherhood and gray hair. I am also a natural born worrier which doomed me even faster. We'll not touch on the other things going on in my life when the change began in earnest, but those factors also played a role. My parents both waited until the regular old age factor kicked in for their hair to gray. In fact, I'm fairly certain my hair is now grayer than both of them put together. Oh, the injustice.

If I wasn't so lazy perhaps I'd dye it. But to a woman who doesn't even own a hair brush (naturally curly hair rocks!), adding any type of maintenance beyond a haircut every six weeks or so is an anathema.

The Boy occasionally called me "Q Tip", a reference of course to the color of my hair and the resemblance to the cotton on top of those little sticks. Cute perhaps, and since I was instrumental in teaching him to tease I could but laugh.

On the way home from the grocery store after re-stocking our supply of fudgesicles this week, I happened upon a PT Cruiser putzing along in the right lane. As I neared, the license plate caught my eye and brought a smile to my face. That's right. It was "Q TIP"! I knew what I would see when I glanced at the driver and sure enough, there atop her head was a poof of white hair and nothing else.

A sense of humor sure makes life easier, doesn't it?