Once upon a time, a leetle over four years ago, a daughter was born with a head full of hair.
Contrary to all expectation, none of it ever fell out, though some got rubbed off from sleeping on her back.
It took forever for it to grow. I once fretted about that.
But time passed and she grew, and so did her hair.
Finally I was able to put her in braids…when she held still long enough…so not often. In fact, she’d prefer to run wild and free with no hairbrush ever touching her hair.
But one dark day, she discovered her skill with scissors.
At first the offenses were minor. She’d take a snip here and a snip there, but always when her hair was in a ponytail. I wouldn’t notice until I took her hairband out and a clump of hair would come off in my hand (let me tell you, rather unnerving). However, for a while we could cover it up and eventually I had to trim her longish hair nearly to her shoulders. It worked.
Then, two weeks after we had our family picture taken (mercifully, she waited for this), she took a huge snip out of the ponytail holder on top of her head, effectively giving herself what we affectionately termed, “The Beorn Mullet”
Seriously, our sweet precious little girl managed to chop 1/4th of the hair on top of her head into bang-like layers. Rather than buzz her head, we opted to just try to comb-over the other side of her hair when we styled it and lived with it for the recent two months. Until everything started to grow out shaggy, and bits of hair we thought we’d hidden began to show up rather glaringly.
Have I mentioned she doesn’t like to hold still? Salons are not an option. And I also mentioned she doesn’t like hairbrushes. Total opposite of Princess!
So tonight we resigned ourselves that she’ll not be wearing braids anytime soon.
Sunshine doesn’t seem to mind.
That’s my pixie girl.