After our usual eventful day —
SillyBilly finally remembered the name of his new friend at school; we had a long discussion on the drive home about why the smoke in the sky might be farmers burning waste instead of a wildfire; Napoleona brushed her teeth all by herself
–I was in the bathroom with the kids as SillyBilly was brushing his teeth. I was just about to start combing Napoleona’s hair when I noticed that some of it was … missing.
Large hunks of it, in fact. With a sharp intake of breath, I said “What happened to your hair? Did you cut it?” (not yelling, just shocked)
Napoleona promptly burst into tears and confessed that she had cut it in her room before dinner while the kids were playing with their art supplies. She had cut the side facing away from us as we are at the dining table, so nobody had noticed.
So we started to talk about it, about how we probably would have to get her hair cut, and how it would probably have to be short. Which inspired a new burst of tears. Then it occurred to me to ask, “Where did you put the hair?”
“Behind my bed.” Of course — hiding the incriminating evidence. Anthropapa came out of their room with a huge nest-like handful.
She spent the next few minutes before bedtime sobbing and sniffling, saying she was sorry. All of her grief was self-inspired; we didn’t admonish her at all but simply talked about how it’s not easy to cut your own hair, and how people go to school to learn how. And how SillyBilly had cut his own hair a few years ago, and how I had done the same as a girl.
Now we just need to figure out how she’s going to avoid getting a mullet.