Yesterday, while talking to a friend on the phone, I found a chunk of Genevieve's hair. Unmistakably Genevieve's. Very straight, dark brown, cut very neatly at the top and tapering down at the bottom. I held it up "You cut your hair?" I don't know why I phrase these things as a question. Her already large brown eyes widened and she took a step back and said "No." I said "No?? Don't tell me know. It's really quite obvious that you DID. I'll be happy to take you to get a real haircut if you want. Do you want your hair short?" And she said "No." She wants her hair long, supposedly.
Then, today, I'm wetting down her hair to put it up for day care. As I brush the hair back from the forehead an inch long section suddenly springs up saying "Here I am!" I told Genevieve that if she's going to cut her hair in the future can she PLEASE take it off in the BACK rather than front-and-center? I also told her I couldn't put her hair up and she responded (reasonably of course) by throwing herself on the floor and screaming. To which I respoonded by picking her up and dragging her to her room and shutting her door and fervently praying she would be done with this display by the time it was time to leave. Which she was.
In the meantime, I need to figure out how to make that hair grow or something.
No comments:
Post a Comment