Suddenly, I found myself in front of the bathroom mirror with a head full of gnarliness that refused to comply with my well honed hair brushing techniques. I didn't have time to rewash my hair, so that was out of the question.
I think a hairbrush may have expired in the fight. It was a valiant effort though, I must say. After about ten minutes of listening to the chickadees fight over oatmeal (please don't ask), I decided to roll into church as if all was OK in the world of tangely tresses.
It was the first time in ages that I got a compliment on my hair.