One warm summer day when Kameron was about two years old, he was with me in the living room, sitting with his legs out in front of him and playing quietly. He'd been this way for quite awhile, while I read a book on the sofa. All of the sudden, he jumps up, screaming at the top of his lungs, and crying in that panicky, oh-I-just-chopped-something-off, get-me-to-the-hospital-now cry. Of course I am scared to death, and look up to see the poor thing standing there with big crocodile tears streaming down his face as is pointing to one leg, which he is holding aloft in the air. He stops, and runs to me and throws himself into my legs. As I ask him what in the world could be wrong, since I don't see any obvious injuries, he backs away, kicks his little leg back out in rigid, straight-forward position and tearfully exclaims, "MOOOOOOMMMMMYYY! I-I-I gots, I-I-I gots haaaaiiiir!!!" Then he starts jabbing his little finger up and down, pointing at his leg. "I gots hair on my LEEEGGSSS!!!!"
It took quite awhile to calm the kid down and get him to understand that the teeny, tiny, blonde, almost invisible hair was indeed OK and quite supposed to be there, and that it didn't matter that Mommy didn't have any hair on her legs. We had to wait for Daddy to come home from work, so he could show Kameron the hair on his legs before he was finally, fully at ease.
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I'm sorry but at first you had me scared to death! I thought maybe he had appendicitis or eaten something he shouldn't but when you said it was hair, I was rolling on the floor laughing! I can just picture this and I will be laughing all day as I remember this!
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