Z went to her playgroup last week. When she came home, she handed me a giant wad of her hair. I said, “Where did you get that?” She nonchalantly replied, “I cut it at Nana B’s.” Awesome.
At bedtime, I start questioning Z about why she cut her hair.
Me: Why did you cut your hair, sweetie?
Z: Because I NEED to cut hair.
Me: Well maybe, Granny Z (who is a stylist) can show you when your older.
Z: (Tearing up, defiantly) NO, I NEED to cut hair NOW, while I’m little.
This was followed by 20 minutes of rocking a wailing toddler who is mumbling about how she has a burning need to cut hair. Somewhere in there she explained to me that she asked for My Little Ponies for Christmas with the explicit intention of cutting their hair. We talked about how their hair wouldn’t grow back if she did that, and she conceded that this might not be the best course of action. The conversation continues….
Z: (Ugly crying and wiping snot on my shirt)… But..but…but….I can CUTS YOUR hair.
Nope, Nope, Nope. No. You. Cannot.
Me: No, you cant cut Mommy’s hair.
Followed by another crying jag and more snot.
Z: (hopefully) Well, what if I sneak up on you and cut it?
Me: I think that is going to end badly for you.
Z: (getting the idea) Well, maybe I can cut Daddy’s hair?
Me: Now you’re talking kid…