Violet needs a haircut. She has a tiny little face, and a big head of hair, like a teasle or Chewbaca. She is one of those kids who screams bloody murder if we wash/comb/groom her hair in any way. She HATES elastics and barrettes. She does not want princess hair. So she'll be visiting the hairdresser this week. Making the appointment reminded me of a haircut Violet got just over a year ago...
Once upon a time there was a little girl named Violet.
One day she found her mother's scissors. The big sewing scissors. She opened the blades, poised them across the top of her head, and said, "Mine cut mine hairs, mommy!" The mommy, not wanting to startle her beautiful daughter into a run, took a slow step towards her child, just as the blades of the scissors closed.The mother started to laugh/cry in horror/hysterics.
This was not the kind of trim that could be remedied by elastics or comb-overs. It was decided that Violet would need a professional.
Tara, at our local hairdressers', proclaimed Violet's handiwork irreparable...
...and set the clippers to "0". You could see the hesitation and regret on this professional's face as the little girl's remaining hair was shorn away.
You can see in this photo how the experience disturbed the little girl, and it was all her mother's fault for leaving her scissors out.
All ye crafty moms, a warning take by me: if ye have scissors, your child will find them. Hide them well, my friends, hide them well.