I keep my hair cut short. When I was entering my sophomore year of high school, I shaved my head. I did it again in college. I let it get really long when I was in grad school, then during pregnancy, both times because I was too lazy to go get it cut. And by lazy I mean running ragged keeping up with employment and a house and school, and growing a person…I love short hair, and if I weren’t so darn cold all the time, I’d keep it shaved. As it is, my mother finally took it upon herself to keep my hair cut and out of my eyes. She’s great.
The irony here, of course, is that Darwin has long hair for her age. She came out with a head covered in corn silk, and it’s only gotten longer. She loves her hair. She loves my hair. She loves hair, period. This week she discovered pony tails. As in, she realized she could have a pony tail just like her friend Annika’s pony tails. Last night in the car on the way home, it fell out, and she was so upset. Leah told her that we would put it back in first thing in the morning. Yeah. She woke up this morning, touched my hair and said “Mama hair”, touched Leah’s hair and said “Mama hair”, touched her hair and said “Darwin hair. Pony tail!”
Y’all, we have reached the stage where we have to watch what we promise, because it will be remembered.