It’s taken me a while to write this post. I’ve had to come to terms with how I feel about everything before I could commit it to words.
A while ago, my darling daughter decided to give herself a haircut. I can see all the moments leading up to this grand event in mind, it’s now becoming pretty comical, but at the time, not so much.
A couple of weeks ago I had given her fringe a quick trim. Her hair was getting in her eyes and it was time. A few days after that I decided to rearrange Willow’s toys and make room to store all my wool, knitting needles and sewing stuff. I had repurposed a plastic storage bin for this and locked everything up tight and put it under my desk.
These two incidents may seem unrelated but wait. You’ll soon see how they fit together. My parents had come to visit for the weekend and my mom and I decided to leave early on Saturday morning to go to the fabric store. We left A in charge and headed out before Willow had woken up for the day.
While I was getting my fabric cut A called me to tell me Willow had cut her hair. Apparently, she had gotten out of bed without calling for anybody, climbed upstairs in her sleeping bag, got into my neatly packed up and (I thought) locked craft box, found my sewing scissors and hacked her hair off.
When he called me I was under the impression that she had just cut a small section. When I got home and saw the devastation that was her hair the full impact of what had happened dawned on me. She had basically shorn about a third of her hair off. It was cut so close to the scalp that it still amazes me that she didn’t lose an eye, the tip of her ear or manage to scalp herself. It was the parenting fail to end all parenting fails.
I took her to the hairdresser to see how we could salvage the situation, but the only thing to be done was to cut it all off with the hair clippers. She now has an ultra-modern hair style and it’s changed the way she looks completely. She looks so old now!
The further we get away from the incident the more I cringe about it. I honestly thought that everything was packed up safely in the box that was locked with some pretty hefty clips. It never dawned on me that she was strong enough to open the box. The sewing scissors and all over scissors for that matter are now all stored up on high shelves out of reach. Its bolting the stable door after the horse has fled, but what can I do about it now. I am just consoling myself that it was just her hair and hair grows back!