I don't know what my seven-year-old son was thinking when he put his peanut butter and jelly sandwich on his head this afternoon.
"Uh, dude," I said. "There's jelly in your hair."
He laughed as he attempted to wipe it out.
I shook my head. "I think you'd better wash it out."
"Nah. I'll just leave it in.."
"You'd better hope there are no bubblebees out there, because bumblebees like jam."
"Mama, it's winter. Don't be so silly."
A little later, I took my kids to the Cincinnati Museum Center. As is our normal tradition, we had to stop at Rook's Ice Cream Parlor. My son ordered a scoop of Superman ice cream -you know, the blue stuff. The next thing I knew, was he was dabbing it on his nose and cheeks.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Making myself look like a clown."
Then he touched his hair. And guess what? He still had ice cream on his fingers. Which meant, he got ice cream in his hair - on top of the jelly.
"Mama, why is my hair so sticky?" he asked as we walked back to the car. "Is there something in it?"