I may have the world's curliest head of hair now, but as a child my hair was severely straight and long. Pigtails and french braids were staples of my mom's hair-styling repertoire. So even though Lucy's hair has steadily gotten longer and more unruly over the last couple of months, I just couldn't bring myself to get it cut. It was just so shiny and sweet with the most beautiful, soft flowing curls on the end that I didn't want to disappear. But once it hit a daily 90 degrees here and we were blow-drying every night before bed/waking up with a huge rats nest of tangles in the morning, I submitted to the siren call of the summer 'do.
Here we are before,
Given her recent propensity for toddler tantrums and disagreeing with pretty much everything ("No, mama, no!" is a new favorite phrase), I expected tears during Lucy's first haircut and was fully prepared with bribes. But she sat quietly the entire time (I think sitting in the airplane chair and getting to watch a puppy movie may have helped) and instead I was the one who cried because my baby morphed into a big girl right before my very eyes. The new bob has served two purposes -- it suits her feisty little personality just perfectly and it has helped me realize that I have to learn to let her grow up. Just a little bit.