Our First Major Hair Disaster

On the list of errands today was a haircut for A. She's been asking for one forever, because she likes to keep her hair quite short. I took her and K to one of the places in the mall (K will always go for anything that looks or feels like a pampering session). We'd been there before, and I've found that simple kid cuts can pretty much be gotten anywhere.

I asked her how short she wanted it and she held her hand to the bottom of her earlobe. This is where she's been pointing for months, but it's just so short! I ask her again and again if she's sure. Does she maybe want it to her chin? Maybe we can do an A-line cut again so the front is longer? No. She insists on having it all one length, although she does finally compromise to a length that reaches the dent between her lower lip and chin. That's as low as she's willing to go.

I point out the length to the hairstylist, respecting A's wishes on length even though I feel it's still a little short. A refuses to talk to the poor lady, so I have to keep coming over to confirm the length and cut with her. I push my hand against A's head so she can feel it as well as seeing it in the mirror to be sure of the length. The hairstylist even cuts it a little longer than I said and then starts to trim a bit as A confirms.

Suddenly A's expression starts too look upset and sad, so I walk over and ask what's wrong. "It's too long", she says. "Too long?", I ask nervously. "No. I want it longer", she says. Oy. "But it's exactly where you told them to cut it", I say, as she starts to cry. "No, I told them to cut it to right here", she says, as she holds her hand to the side of her head - a hand that is completely covered by her hair after it's cut. "But it is that long", I say. Sigh.

The poor hairstylist is devastated, but I reassure her that the length is indeed what she said she wanted. It takes me a long time to get A out of the salon as she's crying and saying she doesn't want anyone to see her. She looks 'hideous', she says. Yep, the pre-teen years are here. Eventually I convince her to leave the salon as the poor traumatized hairstylist tries to find comfort with her co-workers. A hid behind a shopping cart in the corner the entire time we were in Target. She covered her head when we walked to the car and once we got home she grabbed a pair of scissors saying she's going to cut off the front section of hair. Thankfully, I saw her walk by and stopped her just in time. Now that would have actually looked hideous.

She eventually came out of the bathroom and is distracted now with the guinea pig. You may see her with a hat for a while, though. I don't have a picture to show you because she won't let me take one, but honestly you'd probably all just say that her hair looks just fine, cute even. That's what we have all said.

K let me take a photo of her, though. She thought she looked beautiful and she loved how smooth her hair felt with whatever hair lotion they put in it. She kept petting her own head while we walked through Target and asked me several times to feel it. At least someone's still easy to please.

K with her brand new haircut and her brand new purse she picked out today (I'd promised to take her purse-shopping for her birthday)