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Thursday, September 9, 2010

Fatherhood Friday: Scissor Sister

We dodged the bullet for the past few years.
We wondered if we should even cut our own hair at home, worrying that Anna would see it and take tonsorial matters into her own hands, and for the past few years, she’s done well listening to our admonishment to only let Teresa (her stylist) cut her hair. We have grown her hair out since birth, since she has rock star curls and her hair is amazing. But in the immortal words of VH1’s Behind the Music “that all changed” as of last night. As an art teacher, I have tried to instill in Anna respect for materials and media. She has had art supplies at her will since she was able and has done well. Sure, we’ve had a few incidental tagging of various furniture pieces, but for the most part, she’s done okay with her supplies, including the scary scissors. We cringed when her well-meaning preschool teacher gave her a pair of scissors that actually cut shit up, but she (Anna) promised that she would only do good with the new tool.


Until last night.

The first day of kindergarten went well, even though the bus was late and I ended up taking her to school on my way to work, but things seemed to be okay. However, this morning (day two) we woke up to a pile of hair in her bedroom and denial of any wrong-doing on her part. Apparently a “friend” came in and cut her hair for her, so she remains blameless of any wrong-doing with this event. The “friend” gave her a rather un-styled mullet, the kind you see at county fairs or in a Die Antwoord video (just Google it okay? Thank me later).

Thankfully, my former student Teresa is one of the owners of a great salon downtown and we put up the signal this morning, and her amazing team went to work this afternoon and un-styled the mullet and in the timeless words of Tim Gunn, “made it work.” It’s short, it’s sassy, it’s kind of Meg Ryan, but it looks nice. Someone asked me if we kept the hair for Locks of Love, the short answer is NO. The hair was so crazily cut by Anna, sorry, the "friend" that none of the hairs were the same length. I don’t know too many punk preschoolers on chemo, so the hair went into the trash instead of a wig.

A young girl who came to Family Week this summer had done a similar deed and ended up needing a VERY short do that made her look like a boy. She spent most of the week yelling “I’M A GIRL!” at the top of her lungs to the boys that tried to engage her in play. Anna still looks like a very cute girl and is rockin’ the look. Tod hates it, but I think he missed out on having the giant Barbie head as a kid to style and play with and Is using Anna as his own surrogate Barbie head. I am thrilled that I don’t have to mess with the screaming and the yelling as I comb her hair each morning. And yes, I am the ONLY one who makes her scream when I do her hair. Perhaps my many years of teasing out manikin wigs at Jacobson’s made me deaf to their silent screams. I followed all the rules for dealing with kid’s hair, but each day that I came at her with the brush, the screams started, many times even before I touched her.

So now her golden locks are gone, but she is still amazing, and even if she was bald, I’d still love her to death. And, for the record, I did NOT sneak into her room last night and cut her hair.