We have been getting slammed in DC with crazy snowstorms. I have to admit I have loved nearly every minute of it. Not the fact that my kids are in their third week off of school. Or the fact that my husband had to take a suitcase to work and shack up in his office. But I love the heavy white blanket of snow that just keeps piling on. We've got heat. We've got food. We've got internet. I can't think of anything better.
Sadly, our idyllic Currier & Ives postcard was shattered Saturday morning after my daughter struck a pose for us in the living room. She had been instructed to brush her teeth and comb her hair after breakfast. Having been in the back of the house for a significant period of time, she returned to the living room, clasped her hands together and waited.
I stopped sipping my coffee. There was something not quite right. The light from the window filtered through her hair. Or shall I say, what was left of it.
My daughter had cut off all her hair.
She had found my hair-cutting shears, and as my husband and I luxuriated with our Swedish coffee and snugly bathrobes she decided to give herself trim. A mullet, no less.
First off, I am so grateful that she did not slice her cheek open or cut her finger off. Those scissors are sharp, and even I have nicked myself on occasion. We took her into the bathroom to survey the damage, and the closest approximation I can come up with is that I am now the proud mother of a Hayley Mills look-a-like.
On a side note, my sister wanted to know if I had spanked my daughter for doing this. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that she asked, but I told her no way. The appearance of deep, racking sobs when my daughter realized she didn't have long princess hair was punishment enough.