This past weekend, we took the Critter to get her hair cut. This is only the third time we've done this in all her 6-going-on-17 years, and the experience was clearly An Event.
To ease the drama of the whole thing, and make it a little more welcome experience that maybe won't come back to haunt us in therapy later in life, we found a cool place specializing in cutting your child's hair: Snip-its - a hair salon just for kids. This place does "hair cutting birthday parties" - Obviously they know a thing or two about making a hair cut fun.
When we got home, after much sniffling and barely-tolerated cutting, the Critter sat over to the side of the living room, drawing intently. After a while, we got a chance to see the document that she had put together, apparently as a record of the horror we inflicted upon her through this ordeal. I'm assuming this is intended to be submitted as courtroom evidence in her upcoming child emancipation suit.
The Ugly Book About My Hair
By Ella. Illustrated by Ella
When we got to Snip-its, I was scared that they were going to cut all my hair off.
I wrote in my secret diary.
She sprayed water on my hair to make it easy to comb.
She combed my hair and cut my hair.
I got my hair cut at Snip-its hair cuts for kids.
It has a TV in front of the chair.
I look ugly.
On the one hand, ohmygawd what a tragic story - If this little book was dropped off at Child Services, I'm sure that someone would be looking to lock her parents away for abuse, and get that kid off to a farm, with a loving family, and plenty of room for her to run free and chase rabbits.
But on the other hand, we actually know the Critter, and her budding drama-queen tendencies. So my Bride and I laughed until it hurt, and applauded our daughter's promising future as a writer for Oscar acceptance speeches and possibly Bristol Palin.
For the record, we had all of about 2 inches cut from her hair, which now reaches neatly to the middle of her back, instead of having to be looped around her waist several times as a belt.