haircut

So.  We had ANOTHER incident involving small idle hands and scissors.  This was while Husband was out of town for a couple of days.  Lil' girl came to find me with a handful of curls and the explanation:  "Mommy. I didn't mean to."

I think I handled it pretty well all things considered.  And what I mean by that is that I didn't let her see me cry.  

It isn't too terrible.  And by that I mean it was fixed by my friendly neighborhood stylist and you can't tell anymore.  Her hair was so long, and she cut off the end of her ponytail.  It could have been much worse.

And it was a bit of a shock for me.  I didn't realize I had any ego invested in my child's appearance.  I guess I do a little bit.  Five inches of blonde curls!  People pay money to get hair like hers.  And I've never cut it before.  This is the same hair she was born in!

Mostly I was trying to figure out the right way to tell her that she had done something wrong, without making her feel like she is only cute because of her hair.

You know what is wrong with short hair?  NOTHING.  You know what makes you cute?  YOUR HAPPY SMILE. You know why we don't cut our own hair?  Ummm....because we prefer to pay someone to do that.  And so that it is all the same length.

Brilliant child rightly pointed out that my hair is not all the same length, and that I cut my bangs myself.  And I'm left saying lamely: "Just don't cut your hair, Ok? Just don't."





Now you should go listen to this.  I'm afraid we may be having this conversation in a few years at our house, too.