Hair Diaries Part II

I've tried to get myself to write this update since the self inflicted chop and haven't been able to even sit down at the computer.  But here I am with a spoonful of sea salt caramel gelato and eczema covering 90% of my body giving it a go (why do bad things have to taste so good??  Darn you dairy filled deliciousness!).  I'm still beside myself that her hair is gone.  Yes, I know, get over it.  It's only hair.  It'll grow back.  Blah blah, yada yada.  But it's so weird losing the identity of your child.  I mean, she doesn't look like the monkey.  I see other people in her but not her.  We're talking 3 1/2 years of hair minus a couple trims.  I don't recognize this new devilish child that replaced my other devilish child.  Okay, okay, so maybe her personality remains intact.  But seriously, if I lost her in a crowd I don't think I'd be able to pick her out without that mangy mop of unbrushed curls atop her hair.  Yes, possibly the unkempt hair universe has spoken through child proof scissors.  Speaking of, really?  Childproof scissors?  Wouldn't it be better to get a few nicks or cut off an extremity than a child be able to cut their own hair?  Zoinks!  I think I just found my million.  Hair proof scissors.  Genius!  Shark Tank here I come.  (For anyone that doesn't know me, yes, that was a joke.  I've been known to be dramatic at times.  Like all of them.)  Since I just couldn't bring myself to let her rock the mullet, it was off to the hair salon we went.

Because the day was traumatic to begin with and I was numb to child hair pain, we went ahead and got the prince a chop too.  Goodbye little dark ended moppy boy.  Hello respectable cleaned up kids.  They're going to be very confused when people don't run from them in a dark alley any longer.  I can hear it now, 'Mommy, why do people want to be our friends now?'  Poor dear confused kids.  Maybe I can throw a bandana on the dude to toughen him up.

We celebrated Devastated Parents Day with frozen yogurt. 

I asked the monkey if she liked her hair and her answer was yes.  When asked why she replied, "because I did it myself".  I should have named her trouble.  Today at the library I was telling her they had a crafts class we can look in to signing her up for and she asked if there would be scissors 'like to cut paper?' when I answered yes, what did trouble say?  "Good then I can cut off a little more of my hair right here (holding up her miniscule bang that is hugging her skull)."  Pretty sure that class just got cancelled.  We'll call her Double Trouble from now on.  Come to think of it, I am going to sign off now to make sure she isn't sleeping with smuggled scissors under her pillow.