Friday night we celebrated the birth of a new weekend by going to McDonald's. Cayden loves McDonald's, and actually -- we kind of like it too. Not really because of the food, but because of the Playland. It keeps Cayden more or less entertained while we enjoy our fine dining. We had a two-for-one Big Mac coupon. Sweet!

Cayden enjoys it that much more when there are other kids there he can play with. He likes to join in their games as if they are old friends. In fact, he seems to adopt himself into other families quite easily.

Yesterday was no different. There were two families there with 11 kids between them. As the only white child, Cayden was still pretty easy to track. Eventually the two families left and Cayden had to look for other kids to follow. Pretty soon a seven-year-old girl came over to Suz and I and said: "Hey, is that your kid?"

Cayden walked around the corner. "Yes" we said.

"He keeps following me and sitting down in the chair next to me. And when my mom gets here with our food, SHE is going to sit there."

"Okay" I said, "We'll make sure he moves."

The story would have ended there, but only 10 seconds later this same anti-social girl came over to talk to me about Michael Jackson. You can't make this stuff up. This girl had learned from her mother that MJ took a lot of drugs and that is why he died.

All I could think to say without laughing in surprise to this girl's sudden gabby nature was: "Oh, really?"

"Yep, and he even has little kids and now there is no one to take care of them."

True again. I did my best to maintain a smile without a laugh and she followed Cayden into the play structure and asked if he wanted to play. Go figure.

She had nothing to say about Farrah.

Ta-da! New Design, Same Whitty Remarks -- and a Story to Boot!

I would like to take a moment and introduce my blog's super new layout that is both visually stimulating and aesthetically pleasing.  The entire concept was created from scratch by my wonderful wife.  More examples of her visually stimulating and aesthetically pleasing work are located at Purple Tulip Designs. 

In many cases re-designing your blog is like getting a haircut.  Nobody notices the haircut, but they all have great things to say after you tell them you got one.  This re-design is different.  This sensational new blog layout is like the haircut I got my freshman year at BYU.  

Yes, I will tell you the story: 

I think my parents parted my hair on the left side of my head from the day I had hair long enough to be parted.  That part took up permanent residence for nearly 18 years.  Just the part alone would not have been so bad.  It was the spike that made the ensemble work.  So that part was holding down the left side of my head while the rest of my hair was carefully combed eastward, completing the look.   As I hit middle school, I completely reinvented myself by replacing the left-hand spike, with a 'feathering' technique on the hair to the right.  I grew so accustomed to combining my hair in this delicate, yet deliberate fashion that I could not try anything different. 

It would take a near disaster to shift my hair paradigm.  That disaster occurred one day during my freshman year at BYU at the Bon Losee Academy of Hair.  Bon Losee was a beauty school located in Provo.  Freshmen got cheap hair cuts and beauty school students got real practice with human hair.  It was a win-win...if you did not care how your hair looked. Being a bargain-savvy shopper, I thought I would give Bon Losee a chance.  Had I known that the fate of the left-hand part hung in the balance I never would have gone.  As I sat in the chair I kept telling myself: "This will work out."  

Trish, the young girl cutting my hair that day appeared very nervous as she grabbed my hair with one hand and positioned the scissors with the other.  I instinctively knew this was new to Trish too.  I could tell that she still did not know how to grab the hair. 

Regardless, Trish gave it her best effort.  I saw clump after clump of hair fall silently to the ground.  When she was finished she had to have her manager come and 'sign off' on my hair cut making sure that it lived up to Bon Losee's standards and that Trish had not severed an artery or one of my ears. 

As part of the $7.00 hair cut you get a free wash and scalp massage.  As I laid there and watched Trish learn to wash hair, I told myself again:  "It will work out." 

I got home and took a shower.  You never know how a haircut really went until you take a shower.  Something happens on the drive home that I have never been able to figure out.  Either the hair gets shorter or my head gets bigger.  Either way there is less hair up there than when I leave the barbershop.  On this occasion I got out of the shower and looked at my hair.  Something was awry.  There was not enough hair left to support the part.  I tried in vain to comb some follicles west and other follicles east, but they sprung back in place.  Dire circumstances had necessitated a drastic change.

The 'Caesar' cut was born.  You know what I am talking about: push the hair forward rather than to the side.  Spike it up in front and you are done.  It was new, European, and hip.  Nearly ten years have passed and there have been variations, but for the most part, I am still rocking the Caesar cut.  You go with what works.  

This blog, like that first Caesar cut, will not go unnoticed. With the help of my loving wife, I am starting a new chapter in my blogging history.