But in this last year, her hair finally stopped being so shy, and started rapunzeling its way down her beautifully round head to fall right above her shoulders in a stylish bird's nest of snarled silky golden fibers. We tried to comb it, more or less. But unless she'd just gotten out of a bath, it'd never really lay down the way it's supposed to.
It always seemed like a bit of a losing battle (especially in the California heat, where she spends half the year with her hair matted to her sweaty head), and in the end I just decided that her hair explosion was endearing. And it added just the right touch during her crazy clown phase. The best we could do for streamlining was a pulled-back Dread Pirate Wesley look:
So we didn't worry too much about it, just like we don't particularly mind dressing her in boys clothes or mis-matching her socks or letting her go to the playground in her pajamas.
She liked it, too. When Addison and I draw or practice letters, we typically draw pictures of everyone in the family. I'd ask what kind of hair I should give everybody, and this is what Addison would suggest:
For Gramps “just a yittle.”
For me: “Piky hair.”
For mama: “Soft hair.”
For herself: “Crazy hair!”
Recently, though, people have been increasingly telling me that I've got to "do something" with her hair, and that she looks like a "ragamuffin," a term which Addison vehemently protests: "I not a muffin!"
So, I've spent the last couple months thinking of ways to solve the feral child problem without adding more work to my day (did you know that there are parents out there who manage to corral toddlers for a full TEN minutes of hair-brushing?!). I've always had a bit of a thing for a sort of Audrey Hepburn short style. You know; sweet, neat, and easy to clean:
So I started researching pixie cuts and photo-shopping 'dos onto Addison:
|Thanks for the do, Carey Mulligan|
|Much obliged, Emma Watson|
Eh. Michelle Williams, you can keep your hair. We're probably going a different route.
I found some scissors and brandished them dramatically in the mirror for a while, trying to inhabit the role I was about to play. Satisfied, I took a deep breath, and got to work. I got rid of the nest in the back and started trimming here and there. I took special care not to cut my daughter's ears off (safety first!). At a certain point, I decided I'd better take a break before I did anything that I'd regret. So this was pretty near the end:
I smoothed it out a little but ultimately wrapped things up pretty quickly because I didn't have any more Laffy Taffy to keep the kid occupied. And the whistle was deafening.
I think we ended up channeling Twiggy more than Audrey Hepburn.
Though I've gotta say that ours is even more photogenic, if just a tad shaggier. I'll admit, it's not a perfect final product, but for my first ever haircut attempt, I'm fairly pleased. Maybe we'll call it "shaggy chic."
|This is the closest she gets to bed-head now. No hair explosion!|
Now that your crazy hair is gone, kiddo, you'll just have to be a sleeper agent for crazy. I'm sure you'll still be letting it out when we least expect it.
Update: for the final, shorter evolution, check this post out.