It appears that lb has unfortunately inherited my facial recognition skills…or lack thereof. I can watch the same actor in 3 different movies and as long as his hair is different, I have no idea it’s the same person.

I have people come up to me frequently in group situations and call me by name. Knowing my inability to remember faces, I pretend to know them as well. Then after the conversation is over, I ask J who the heck that was. The response is usually something like “You just talked to them for an hour last week in church.”

Button is convinced that everybody with a beard is J. She’ll point to any picture of any man with a beard and proclaim “Daddo!” Oh, and she’s also decided that the bust of Beethoven on my parents’ piano is “Daddo!” too.

She also thinks that pretty much anybody with long hair is “Mama!” She recently spent half a day pointing out Mama! on the back of the Triscuits box (Rachel Ray). Mama! has also been known to grace the Pampers diaper box… despite the fact that I have not, at any point in her lifetime, been a blonde.

So, I’m wondering… what happens when I cut my hair? I’m really not a long-hair person. The only reason I have it is because I’m too friggin’ lazy to get my hair cut more than once a year. So when I finally get it whacked…will my daughter cease to recognize me? Will she go running from me, into the arms of Rachel Ray or the nearest neighbor with long tresses (which in this neighborhood is likely to be a guy)?

I guess we’ll find out eventually.

This entry was posted on Friday, January 19th, 2007 at 10:03 pm and is filed under Body Issues, Confessions, Daily, Parenting. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.