All kids do it. Except my son. He never did it. But my daughter? She just did it on Friday.
Snip, snip. Cut her hair. Chunks off the left side and a chunk off her right side bangs. Gone.
I was in the office ordering pizza for our Friday night family movie night. I came out and there she was: standing in front of me with what were supposed to be really dull rounded edge toddler scissors in one hand, a chunk of hair in her right hand. A HUGE smile on her sweet little face. Chunks of beautiful long hair scattered throughout the floor.
I blame myself. I take it as a sign that I should have been making that pizza at home with the kids helping instead of ordering it.
She’s always been great with scissors, doing arts & crafts. But, she is also our fearless adventurer, always pushing the envelope and living her life based on the “what would happen if I do this?” mantra.
Now she looks like a little punk girl circa 1985, with spiky little tufts mixed with long hair. Nobody rocks the kid mullet like my kid. Now, even more so.