Normally you don’t sit still long enough for me to get creative with your hair. Normally you can’t handle getting your hair brushed without tears. Imagine my surprise, then, when you regularly come home from school with your hair all done up – braided, twisted, and looking sheik – courtesy of your teachers who apparently have permission to touch your head. But not me.
The other day in a brief moment of tolerance, you allowed me to brush your hair without complaint. I went for it; I started braiding your hair – French braiding it, no less! I got one side done and not a peep from you.
I was halfway through the other side when your Daddy walked in and said, “Oh, how nice, Kitten! You’re letting Mommy braid your hair?”
I hissed at him under my breath, “Shut. Up. Don’t ruin this for me!” Thankfully, you did not emerge from your trance and I was able to complete the entire ‘do’. I thought it looked quite nice:
…it lasted 1 whole hour.