Brett is a hat kid. Every night at dinner, we have to remind him to take it off. Every morning after his shower, he puts a hat right back on. He has a stash of "back-up-cool-Brett-hats" for when pesky mom wants to wash one. Or, when pesky Lucas has lost one.
It's gotten to the point where I had to go back and look at his baby pictures just to verify that he wasn't indeed, born with one on. The whole thing king of grosses me out on that deep mom level. Especially because of the dirt and germ factor, and I'm constantly giving him mini-lectures on hat hygiene.
Last night he's sitting on the couch with Evan who is staring up at the bill of Brett's cap. Apparently, he couldn't figure out why Brett wanted to advertise for United Rigging and Crane either. Brett tears his eyes away from his beloved earned TV time long enough to acknowledge Evan.
"Hey Bubb! Like my hat? Do you want to wear it?"
I intervene. "Brett, you know we don't share hats."
"Yeah, I know." He says, and then begins to wiggle and sing. "Because of Lice, Lice Baby...we don't want Lice, Lice, Baby..."
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