The Davis family has a tradition of not cutting a child's hair until after the second birthday. Dutifully, I plaited and pigtailed Olivia's hair until she was almost three, but by then, she had had it with my wily ways and was determined to outrun or out-cry my combing tactics.
The solution? Haircut.
In general, Olivia's hair mimics my own, with all of it's amazing lifelessness (not really, it's just determinedly straight). However, she's got a few bits of daddy's curls, and there is a particular portion on the back of her head that is the master tangler section, and I blame Nathan. Mostly because I don't want to believe that any of my genes would purposely torment me by being so obstinate (a point at which my mother would laugh mercilessly and mention something about "payback"), but also because it's got more texture than the rest, which lends it to tangling. But I'm not certain it doesn't do it on purpose...
So here's the fruit of our "salon" visit - which entailed about 30 minutes in front of the hallway mirror, with Olivia sitting on a stool with a towel wrapped around herself, me with a pair of kitchen scissors (our general sharps broke recently after a nasty run-in with a coffee can - don't ask), and Elsie trying her hardest to roll, scoot, and crawl away:
Oh, and Olivia asked me to share this photo, too.
1 comment:
Good job Momma!
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