Shake it Like a Polaroid Picture

One day Jackson will be old enough to finally ask that dreaded question - "Mom? Dad? Can we camp out in front of Walmart tomorrow night and be the first to buy that brand new $400 video game system?" As I begin to form an answer to this pivotal question, I will draw from the years of my childhood when I did my fair share of playing Nintendo and Sega Genesis. With my dad, mind you. You are talking to a Tetris, Dr. Mario, Contra, and Super Mario 3 hero. Curt's grandparents keep an old Nintendo in their guest room and I never fail to challenge the cousins to a few games. One thing that helps a lot when it comes to video games like Mario Bros. is knowing where the warp zones are. Well, folks, I found a warp zone today. In real life.

I took my oh so adorable son to get his second haircut. I've been meaning to do it for several months, but every time I get ready to, he has a fabulous hair day and I change my mind. Finally today I pumped myself up for it. You know, the first time was really hard for me. I was sad for a couple of days. This time, thank You Lord, he's older and the big boy haircut fits. He looks adorable. But that's not my point.

So the salon is run by a woman who is Ms. Lippy in the flesh. (Billy Madison, anyone? Paste? On the face?) Things are a little...off. When another employee takes Jackson I'm relieved because that means the conversation will not be bizarre. Right? RIGHT? This stylist is very nice. She takes a picture of me and Jacks at the end and spends at least three long minutes shake it, shake, shake it, shaking it like the Polaroid picture that it is. Then I say something about church which leads her to say, "Oh, you're a Christian? Well that makes sense because there was a lot of activity in the picture. That's why I kept it from you so long. I didn't want to freak you out."

Hmmmmmm. WHAT?

"There were faces all around you in the picture while it was developing. I've never seen that much activity before."

You've got to be kidding me. What do you even say to that? All I can muster is, "Are you a Christian?" You know I had to ask that because I wanted to give her the opportunity to tell me if she was a witch or something. Turns out she's a believer. The "faces" finally disappear and she hands the photo to me. All I see is a perfectly normal picture of me and my son. I am now quite ready to warp out of this twilight zone. I pluck my child out of the chair and march over to the counter to pay, playing it off like the other customers did not overhear everything. Three fifths of me was thinking this crazy woman misinterpreted the cloudiness that initially covers all Polaroids, one fifth of me was struck utterly senseless by the astonishingly bizarre conversation I just had with a complete stranger in a hair salon, and the remaining fifth of me really wanted to know if they were good faces or bad faces!