She’s four-years-old and I just cut her hair for the first time. We like long hair. Added to this, she was bald until she was two, so it is as if her hair were only two-years-old. It was getting ragged at the end, which turned into tangles, which turned to tears, and the logical solution was a trim.
A trim.
It didn’t matter what you call it, in her realm of experience, putting scissors to hair is for boys. She was horrified, and also convinced she’d look like her brother. When I was done, and her hair was still long, she was relieved. Not happy. Just relieved.
Like most things in life, for better for for worse, I did it myself. After taking a deep breath, of course. First, I combed it out.
Then, because this needed to go into the baby book even though she’s not a baby, I took the longest part and banded it together, then clipped off the lock all at once. See it in her hand?
Then, I took her outside and evened it out as best I could. I brought her back in to photograph the finished product.
Please take note of my messy living room. Thank you.
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