You know when you go get your hair cut, and you say you really need a style that you can just wash and wear, and, sure, your stylist will work with you, but you get that little look from them like, "Geez, you can't take the time to dry your hair. Haven't you seen Oprah? You're not supposed to let yourself go. But sure, wash and wear..."
To which I offer this morning's events. I took a shower. Boop, Red, and the Mystery Man (who is also a cowboy, I'm not sure I've mentioned that here. He has a real, authentic cowboy hat, cowboy boots that he wears everywhere including the beach, and most recently, a cap gun), they were all downstairs basically content.
Then they aren't. I stick my head out of the bathroom and shout down to them. Then realize that while I've made a strict rule not to point the cap gun (rifle, really, and about as tall as Mystery Man) at any living thing, including siblings, I had neglected to forbid anyone from holding the rifle by the butt, then running at their siblings till they shrieked and whacking them on, well, the butt. I'd left out this particular instruction and Mystery Man was taking full advantage of the loophole. So, I put a stop to it.
Then I return to the bathroom and begin drying my hair. After about thirty seconds, Red pokes her head in and says,
"The level of urgency of this matter has greatly increased."
And there went my hair.