I was planning my first entry (yes, I do plan...well... really planning might be too strong a word. How about this...) I was thinking about my first entry and I thought I might want to write about the people in my life, and the fun blog nicknames I could give them. Because, you know, I needed a vote and discussion before I could pick my name, but I'll assign other people names, and change them, at the drop of the hat. (With the exception of one person, who shall forever be referred to as Duckie. Because I have a fun sense of humor like that.)
But, this is not to be the case.
Instead this entry is all about Sweetling and her hair. Her hair is spun honey. Smooth and straight and silken. And it fell to her hips and I love it. Daddy thought yesterday that perhaps it needed trimmed, because she had a tendency to sit on it. Mommy thought otherwise. Sweetling, surprise, surprise, agreed with Daddy. So tonight Mommy trimmed her hair. I asked her how long she wanted it to be, and she held her hand up and marked a spot a little past the mid-point of her back. I took a deep breath, and said ok. I suggested that I cut it, and then she go look in the mirror and see if it was short enough. If it wasn't, I'd trim off a little more. We did that.
While Sweetling went to the bathroom, I carefully picked up each little strand of hair that had been clipped off. I cupped them in my hand. I can't throw them out, of course. They are far too precious. I saw an interesting object at the Museum Center a few years ago. They had an eccelectic display of interesting old items. One of these was a hair wreath. Apparantly women used to collect the hair clippings after trimming their families hair. Then these clippings would be slowly woven into a wreath, complete with little flower buds formed from twists of hair. I immediately identified with this process and wondered where I could find how-to directions for this lost art. The Jedi, however, found the hair wreath creepy and didn't seem very open to having one in our kitchen. So, no hair wreath from Sweetling's hair. Instead, I took the clippings outside and laid them on the patio. If it were spring or early summer, the birds would come and used the clippings for nesting materials. (Its not spring, but I'm ignoring that.)
As I'm practicing cognitive dissonance in regards to the fate of the clippings, Sweetling went to the bathroom mirror and considered her hair. She then held her hand up to her shoulder and suggested we cut it to there. "No! No!" I exclaimed, before I could stop myself. "We can't do that!"
"Why not?" asked Sweetling calmly.
Another deep breath. "If you'd like your hair cut that short, that's fine, we can get it done." (All right, this isn't as mature as it sounds, secretly I'm hoping she'll change her mind or forget. That of course, is never ever going to happen because I could just as easily call Sweetling "Encyclopedia" or "Steel Trap Mind" becuase the girl never forgets anything.) But I patiently explained, "If you want it cut that short, we'll have to get it cut at a hair dressers. Mommy isn't that good at cutting hair. I can trim your hair, but I can't cut it that short and have it look good. We'll take you to someone who can cut it so it looks cute. But..." and, when I first suggested this, it was a stall for time so she wouldn't insist on going to a salon tomorrow.... "lets let it grow back out first. When it gets to the point when you are sitting on it again, and if you still want it cut short, we'll go to a hair dressers, and donate what we cut off to locks of love."
Sweetling smiled, delighted with this idea.
As she got her bath, I went downstairs and pulled up locks of love on the internet. I'm good at cognitive dissonance, but I also know my Sweetling. The website is awesome. The program is awesome. But the photo gallery is what got to me.
If Sweetling wants to get her hair cut short, I'd be totally cool with it if we donated her hair to locks of love.
