Princess Hair

A few months ago, the girls' hair was getting long. I got home from work in the morning, put the girls in the bath, and after they had been washed, I got my scissors out, and trimmed the baby's length and bangs. I asked my 4 year old if she wanted her length cut, and she said, "No! Don't cut my princess hair!" and started crying, "Don't cut off my princess hair!"

"Ok sweetie, we'll just trim the bangs," and I trimmed her bangs, put the scissors back in the cabinet, and fed them breakfast. I put them back in their room and laid down on the couch for a few hours' sleep.

I got up around eleven and went to get the baby out. I caught glimpses of the oldest, like a stalker creeping around corners. I changed the baby's diaper, and saw a head peeking behind the couch. I sat the baby in her chair, and saw eyes peeping around the corner. Fabulous, I'm being haunted by a 4-year old. Is there an exorcist for that? (Please tell me if there is!) I decided to ignore her began cooking lunch. Diana comes out from behind the couch, and I can only see the top of her head and face.

Now usually she hides because she's naked and has pottied somewhere. "Pumpkin, did you potty in your pants?"

"Well," she says, very quietly, "I had an accident."

"Ok, get some new pants, and go potty in the potty chair real quick. Don't forget to wash your hands." I go into the living room to find her an outfit that matches (don't even get me started on matching clothes - she thinks red and orange match, but lectures me on any thing I pick, saying it doesn't match. Listen, child, tan pants go with almost everything!) and my personal poltergeist darts back around the corner. Whatever. "Diana, your clothes are here on the couch," I tell her, and went to finish lunch.

A little bit later, I'm done making lunch, the baby is eating, her plate is getting cold, she still hadn't come out to the kitchen yet. "Diana, bring the sippy cups and come out and eat!"

"I'm not hungry, Mommy!" she tells me. What? I know she hadn't got into the kitchen, because the gate was still closed when I got up. She looks anorexic, but she eats like a horse, so she had to be hungry. I went to get the sippy cups myself, and check for hidden food, just in case. As I walk back to their room, I heard thumps and bumps as she hid herself behind one of the toddler beds. Something was up, and even though I hadn't any caffeine in my system, I had to be alert. She's crafty.

I start looking around her room, and found something strange on the carpet. My pumpkin was hiding behind her bed, and there was, something... string-like lying on the floor...oh my God, it's hair! What happened? "Diana, how did this hair get here? Is it your doll's hair?" She doesn't answer, so I go over to where she's hiding...is that..OH My GOD! IT'S MY SCISSORS?!!! "Diana, did you get the scissors? Get out here now!"

She pops out from behind the bed. Half of her hair is missing, but only in three spots. Oh no! Her hair had been half-way down her back, now only about three sections were! She looked like... Well, a four-year-old cut her hair. Shit! "Diana, come with me!" I take her into the bathroom with the scissors. "Look at this, Diana, your hair is chopped up. You're not supposed to get the scissors (spank) you're not supposed to get into the bathroom (spank) and you could have hurt yourself (spank spank spank!) Now look at that, does your hair still look pretty?"

She gazed in the mirror at her haircut that looked like it had gone through a blender, then been chewed up and spit back out, and smiled. Actually, beamed. "Yeah, it's pretty," and cocked her head to the side to look, doing the 'cute' pose.

"No, honey, it's not pretty, it's missing pieces and hunks!" And I had to cut her hair off, all the way to her ears. She screamed the whole time! I can't leave it like this, so after a while it just becomes a droning/screaming sound in the background. Ahhh ahhha ahhhhh!

"It's just hair," I say, and when that doesn't quiet her, "It'll grow back!" That actually worked! We got into a discussion about hair growing a little a day, and she was so entranced, she quit crying. I bitched at her about getting into my medicine cabinet for the rest of the haircutting experience. I'm sure she'll have fond memories of haircutting now. She'll probably be in therapy in 15 years, telling about her nightmares involving being shaved bald or something. Anyway, she left the bangs alone, thank goodness, because I don't know how I would have fixed bangs! And she could have hurt herself! Darwinism isn't a myth, y'know!