Should've taken a photo

I should have taken a photo, but I didn't think of it. Cameron just emerged from the bathroom, where he had been instructed to brush his teeth before school. With a big grin on his face, he pointed to his head which was crowned with a mass of wet, spiky hair. "Look what I did!" he crowed.

"Oh Cameron!" I said, not amused but not particularly concerned either. Wet, spiky hair can be combed down. But then, I saw the bubbles. "What did you put in your hair?"

"Soap!" Hand soap, more specifically. And generous amounts, by the looks of it.

"Oh geez, Cameron! Get your step stool and bring it to the kitchen sink. I'm going to have to wash your hair out and we've got to leave for school in just a few minutes!"

"Nooooo! It'll dry! It's fine!"

With much protestation, Cameron leaned his head over the sink where I squirted him down and then quickly blew his hair dry.

Just moments ago, Cameron looked in the mirror and said, "Alright! Thanks, Mom, for giving me the uh-oh."

"The what?"

"The uh-oh! Look! My hair is dried, sticking all uh-oh!"

I didn't think boys were supposed to care about their hair until they were about twelve. But my four year old is thrilled that the back of his hair is dried into a messy cowlick.