Monday, September 03, 2007

Hair! Hair!

My kid cut her own hair. It's a rite of passage, isn't it? Right? Hello? Why is everyone laughing?

My mom was visiting while the Hub was out of town for a week and I had the most exhausting week ever. Because we decided to reupholster chairs. Six chairs. Because we're nuts.

And while we were working, SweetBabyGirl was playing in the other room and said something about scissors and I thought hmmmm and went to check and... And! And!!

Well, at least her hair was in a ponytail and she couldn't cut it all the way to the skin. Like she did with the dog, upon whom she'd practiced before turning to her own hair. Good news: she didn't actually harm the dog. Bad news: the dog's got cancer and the steroids that are keeping the cancer at bay apparently slow down fur growth and said dog still has a bald patch where they shaved her for the IV when they did the MRI. And now several more, on her neck, and her sides, and the tip of her tail. She's a very patient dog.

The child's hair looks like a longish shag, circa mid-70's, only kind of asymmetrical, starting at the earlobe on the left and ending up about mid-arm length on the right.

I was so sad. Her hair was almost waist-length and so beautiful. I haven't even gotten around to scheduling a proper haircut because our regular hair cutter (for more than a decade!) moved to Scotland. Sigh.

Naturally, my mom thought it was freakin' hilarious. She managed not to laugh, at least not too much.

By the way, I never did that when I was a kid. Never.


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