sewing scissors

I've been pondering Adelaide's hair for some time now. I was planning to let it grow and grow all sweet and long forever. But lately she is frightened to have it washed and she despises having it combed, and so most days her hair is a sticky tangled mess.

So on a bit of a whim this morning, wanting to spare her the trauma of a salon, I stood her on the toilet, my sharpest sewing scissors in hand, and proceeded to snip snip away.

Soon I knew that I made a big mistake. I realised - much too late - that I am no hair professional, especially when it comes to a wriggling toddler. My sweet little girl now sports a rather mis-shaped choppy hairdo, near bald patch on one side, looking a little like she had a run-in with some sort of weed eater.

Horrified, I packaged her up and ran her over to the closest hair salon. But they had no time for our emergency, and we returned straight home, me trudging along full of melancholy, Adelaide skipping away, happily oblivious.

Guilt.

Yet, I have discovered upon our return home, that pigtails are still (if barely) possible!

Saved.