You know what I'm talking about. You're dressed and going about the start of your day. You've managed to get some breakfast down your throat, poured a second cup of coffee, fed-dressed-and all around wrangled several miniature people to complete their morning tasks in order to get out the door. What's amazing about all this is that you haven't noticed it yet.
It's when you're faced with the first, and quite possibly only, adult that you will have a chance to talk with in the next 8 hours of your life that you notice it.
That stray hair that got stuck to the inside of your bra. Front and center. That hair that insists on torturing you, no matter which way you wiggle. That hair that you could reach down into your shirt and grab without even looking because it's so annoyingly obvious.
But you can't.
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