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The last couple days, I’d noticed Ruby’s hair looking a little unkempt.

At breakfast today, the back was all matted and tangled.

“Do you need some help with your hair?” I asked, trying to be diplomatic.

“Yes,”she said around a bite of Belgian waffle.

“I can wet it down for you and brush it through,” I said.

“I don’t have a brush,” she said.

What?

“Why didn’t you ask for one?” I asked.

“Because I couldn’t find it,” she said.

Okay.

Which means we hit Safeway at 7:10 a.m. for a new hairbrush. Because Ruby has hair.

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