At the shopping centre yesterday, Lewis kept pulling my t-shirt down and pointing out to anyone close by that I had hair everywhere. I tried to distract him with all the pretty lights but he was too persistent and so I tackled it head on:
Reservoir Dad: Yep, I'm hairy. You'll grow hair on you chest one day too, mate.
Lewis: No. I won't.
Reservoir Dad: Yep, you will.
So going by his enthusiastic little summation, in twenty years we can expect Lewis to turn up to family dinners looking like this -
- stretch and twist it, get-the-chewy-off-your-boot style, to the point where it seems like it just might snap
- dip it, by squatting down, into cups, buckets, boots, just about everything
- paint it
- wiggle it enthusiastically by swivelling the hips
- include it in daily conversation