The other morning, as I was combing out MoonPie’s hair and listening to the usual complaints of hair pulling and the unnecessary use of barrettes, I asked myself a simple question.
Why was I spending hours of my time combing and fixing my daughter’s hair when she obviously didn’t care a whit? Seriously, if it were left up to her, she’d have dreadlocks within the month. On days that I have to go to church early, I quake with fear that JD will just let her go “as is”. Be reminded, he has no hair, so taking extreme measures such as “shampooing” and “combing” are foreign concepts.
Sure MoonPie’s long hair is glorious when washed, combed and styled with any degree of purpose, but that only happens every other never. Can you guess where this is leading?
She said on a scale from 1 to 10, it was a “TEN”. From the side –
Ready for church –
The girl is SASSY. She got approximately 47 compliments at church today and, like adults when they’ve gotten a cute new ‘do, she’s strutting around the house like a super model. Suddenly she’s all ADULT, and is helping with the dogs, getting her own food, asking if she can HELP. Perhaps I should have done this sooner. She’s happy, I’m happy and I KNOW my mother’s happy.
This is for all of you mothers who keep telling your children to “cut my grandchild’s hair!” Enjoy this small victory. I know that they are few and far between.