There comes a time in every young girl’s life when she must do something drastic. She needs to show her independence. Fight the power. Give a big ole middle finger to The Man.
Except when you’re three, and The Man is The Mom, and that Thing You Must Do is to take a pair of blunt tipped child safety scissors and cut off half of your luscious, golden brown, perfectly ringletted locks.
I’m going to preface this by saying that I wasn’t even here for this event. I was getting small chunks of back skin removed. Dad was in charge. Having come home from work early to relieve me, he went back to his desk to “check his email,” “just for a second,” and “had no idea she did this” until I came home and inquired about all the hair on the kitchen floor.
Now in his defense, all three girls were at the kitchen table playing with their homemade silly putty, and they always use scissors to cut it and then drape it over their hands and arms in some Silence of the Lambs type scenario that’s not at all creepy. I leave them alone-ish to do this all the time. Only when I’m here, no one dares cut their own hair. Dad being in charge must give off an air of freedom and fearlessness. The sky’s the limit! Or the back of the head where you can’t reach with your short little arms is, at least.
When I came home, everyone was watching a movie, so I started cleaning up the silly putty that was left out. That’s when I saw the hair on the floor. I knew it was Zoe’s right away. But it was only a few little locks.
“Zoe, did you cut your hair?”
“Oh yeah! I did!”
“Where?” It really wasn’t obvious, just looking at her.
“Right heah, and heah, and heah.” She pointed to the front, the side, the back. It looked a little off kilter, but nothing too obvious. I reached up to touch her hair and check the unevenness of it all…
And that’s when clumps of hair just came right out by the handful. And she was left with this.
Classic three-year-old move, the cutting of the hair. Timed perfectly with the fact that I was just looking at her hair earlier that day and thinking about how cute and perfect it was, always framing her face in perfect ringlets.
Take it from me, don’t ever think happy thoughts about your kids’ hair. They’ll plum go and chop it off.
So that weekend I took her to the haircut place to get it evened out. I winced as the lady showed me how short she was going to have to cut it, but we had to even it out. I’m not cool enough to tote around a child with a trendy asymmetrical cut.
After I unsuccessfully tried to convince her to only charge me half price because clearly half of the job had been done for her, we left with three DumDum lollipops and one very cute bob.
And seriously, I cannot stop staring at her. She’s so damn cute. She looks a full year older, is now talking in full paragraphs, and all of the sudden decided to give the big eff you to the little training potty in lieu of the big porcelian throne.
So what we’ve learned here:
Leaving kids unattended with scissors can lead to bad things.
Leaving your husband unattended with your children can also lead to bad things.
Short curly hair on 3-year-olds is to die for.
Cutting hair somehow leads to potty training success.
Your youngest child is now a grown up and you are sobbing in the corner.