Sporting a nifty new bob haircut today, no not me, Ava.
Apparently it took me almost 24 hours to realize that the left side of her head was oh, about 2 1/2" shorter than the right. I discovered this in Target, while she was sitting in the cart nonetheless. I looked at her tilted my head and said, "Gosh your hair keeps getting stuck in your turtleneck." I flip it, and well it was not stuck. It is gone.
And my state allows me to operate a motor vehicle, the Chinese gov't says they are going to give me another kid. I'm thinking I might need glasses.
Me: Ava, at LBF's yesterday did you cut your pigtail in addition to all of the other stuff you cut up? (Aahh, now I know why she was hiding her pigtail rubber bands and was purposely tousling her hair in a big mess.) No one ever said I was the brightest bulb in the package.
Ava: Oh, yeah mom. She thinks this is absolutely hilarious.
Me: Rolling my eyes and stopping the cart to examine further. How the heck did I miss this when I washed and blowdried your hair this morning? Ava this is so short on this side we are going to have to even it up.
Ava: More laughing hysterically.
Me: Ok, but you aren't going to have Jasmine hair anymore. (Admittedly, sort of a low blow on my part.)
At this point her hysterical giggling was truly starting to piss me off. In my mind I was hearing an old friend of mine saying, "To hit your kids in public or not? Oh heck, Walmart that's where you go to hit your kids. No worries there." (This was obvious party fodder and everyone had consumed a few beverages with umbrellas in them if I remember correctly.) Then I remembered I was at Target, no obvious displays of serious parental disapproval here.
Ava: No more Jasmine hair? Hysterical laughing stops immediately. You aren't going to make me look like a baby are you?
Me: No, but you will need a trim.
So, she got that trim a hour later. Which if anyone has tried to trim perfectly straight fine black hair, you will know how virtually impossible it is.
I am just far to anal to live with this little scissors indiscretion until next week when we could see a professional. Welcome to Mommy's House of Heinous Hair. Step right up, roll the dice. She sat there for an hour while I clipped and evened. Clipped and evened.
Blow dry. More evening up. Wet down. Snip snip. Momma curses. Momma apologizes for cursing. Momma refuses to explain what curse word means.
Here she is showing off the new do. She seems to have recovered nicely...since she got to spend the afternoon building yet another bird house with Main Muffin Man. (If they keep up the pace we should have a house for every yellow finch this side of the Mississipi this spring.)