What Warms the Heart of A Cranky Old Skidzilla?

Last Friday, while driving to the suburban consumer haven to indulge ourselves in a west-coast branded, chain-restaurant pizza and accoutrements, The Gibster, the eldest of Skidzilla off-spring, asked his mother, "When can I get my Mohawk?" I clearly had a stunned look on face and Mrs. Skidzilla told he had indeed mentioned this in the past and asked if she did not inform me of his desires.

In about a millisecond I began thinking...if she can keep information as vital as this to herself, how do I know she doesn't have other secrets; a giant stash of cash that I am unaware, a lover, another family elsewhere? But, I tried to remain focused on the matter at hand and I had to concentrate to see the road through the tears of joy welling up in my eyes. So, just to verify my mind wasn't playing tricks on me, I turned and asked The Gibster, "Do you want a Mohawk?"

"Yeah, a red one" he replied. It was very difficult not to pull over and give him a big ole hug.

Phase one is complete. Color is on the way. Check it out.