A few weeks ago, I was at a parents' meeting at the school, and figured out that the lady sitting next to me had a little boy in Babs' class. He actually sits across from her. (The conversation, always, goes something like this: me: "Oh, your child is in Ms. C's class? What is their name?" other: "blah-blah, and who is your child?" "Babs." "Oh! we hear so much about her." All the parents know of her.)
"I think your daughter is the reason I have blond highlights," this mother (of middle eastern descent) tells me.
What?
Apparently her boy has told her all about Babs, and also begged her to get blond hair. He promised to not need anything else in life, no toys, no games, just he needed his mom to have blond hair. After explaining to him that her hair wouldn't do blond, and much more pleading, the father just told her to get highlights. And so now she's (partially) blond, because of my daughter.
(While this story cracks me up, I have not told my daughter. There is just too much she wouldn't understand. I'll tell her later. Much later.
