The Haircut

That whole first week after it was done, I could hardly look at her without wanting to cry. It's taken me this long to even be able to talk about it.

It was way past time to do something; combing the snarls and tangles out of her hair every day led to flailing, wailing and buckets of tears. And it was pretty hard on her, too.

I didn't cut her hair myself because I was afraid of screwing it up. So we went to a salon. Where it was butchered even worse than I could have managed. When we got home I was so wrecked that I needed to lay down with a cold rag on my head.

I'm finally getting used to it, a little. I trimmed up the bangs some and it needs a few more snips on the sides, but I can't get her to hold still long enough. We stocked up on barrettes and we've been experimenting to see what works best -- parted in the middle, parted on the side, bangs down, bangs pinned back, etc.

But you know what?



She's still the cutest kid on the planet.