Last night, I ventured to Home Depot and Lowe’s and Joann’s Fabrics to buy supplies to decorate the church for Vacation Bible School. (Avalanche Ranch!) I waited in line to have 2x4s cut into 6 foot lengths. I wrestled giant sheets of styrofoam (four feet by eight feet!) into my van. I pondered mis-tinted paint, hunting for the shades I needed.
I returned home, utterly exhausted at 9:30 p.m. As I stood in my bedroom doorway, talking to my husband, a pile of beautiful blond curls caught my eye. I scooped up this handful of golden hair and said, “She didn’t!” and he said, “Oh. She did. She shouldn’t have scissors.” And I said, “The scissors were on the dresser. I took them out of her room.”
“Where did she cut it?” I said.
“In her bedroom,” he said.
“No, I mean where on her head?”
“Oh,” he said, “I couldn’t tell.”
This morning, I said to her, “Where did you cut your hair?” and she said, “Here, and here on the side and here and in the back.”
Why? “Because it was in my eyes.”
She is just lucky that her hair is curly and that her curls will hide this wretched haircut. It’s only hair. It’s only hair. It’s only hair.
* * *
The other morning, she came clanging into our room, sounding exactly like the Ghost of Jacob Marley, that ghost in “A Christmas Carol” which drags heavy chains around. She did not have chains, but rather, Barbie roller skates and matching elbow and knee pads.
Fortunately, the three-day roller-skating craze has ended, thus proving my wisdom in paying only $3.00 for said roller skates. (A dollar a day, what a bargain.)