A man and his hat- what can I say? Mr. Mo Mommy left his hat at our house last night after the Christmas chaos settled- he turned over the house looking for it, but sleepy babies and grumpy mamas made him abandon hope and head home sans chapeau.
This morning, while digging out of the mess, it came crawling out from behind the tree, and I had to take the fireplace poker to it to subdue the beast. Mo claims the mister has several very becoming replacements for this tattered, ratty, sweaty, can walk-on-it’s-own ball-cap; and yet, something about the Y chromosome covets clothing such as this-
How bout you? What’s the grossest thing your husband insists on wearing, and what would you do to get rid of it? I’m holding this one for ransom- if he loves it that much, I figure it’s good for at least some nice cheese in exchange.