mia’s new haircut.
I was in the kitchen making veggie and bean soup. Bill was standing on the other side of the island, facing out hallway. I hear here from the hallway,
I cut my hair! I used the sharp scissors! I cut my hair!"
I look at Bill because he can see her from where he is. I can’t. His mouth is dropped wide open, half smile. Shock. Amusement.
I rush out around the island and see my daughter, her flimsy, floppy, soft as corn-silk, getting long, blondy hair is totally chopped off. Chop suey. Hacked.
She is smiling so big and bright. So proud of herself.
Well, Mia, you cut your hair.
Yup!!!!!! She tosses her head and flicks her short hair with her hand. So sassy and sweet, feelin’ good about her new look.
I smile big and tell her it looks great. But that sharp scissors are not for her to play with.
I know. But I didn’t cut myself, mama. See?
She goes running off. Skipping off. I, too feel free and wild after a good haircut. It’s apparent this has given her a renewed lease on her little life. But now I got figure out what to do with this child’s head. Too short for a pixie, perhaps perfect for a shaped mullet. A mohawk? Tiny little corn-rolls? And the tail, the tail has gotta go. But not first without a day of braiding it and listening to Eric B and Rakin and breakdancing in some pretend parachute pants.
” />
” />
” />
