I cut your daddy’s hair this morning. You sat and watched in rapt attention.
“When I get big, I cut my hair?”
“No, honey, you have pretty hair, you don’t need to cut it.”
“Mommy cut her hair.”
“Yes, because Mommy’s silly.”
“She got you, Mommy,” laughed the man in the chair.
When the hair cut was done, you beat me to the clean-up. You grabbed your little broom and were sweeping up the hairs before I even had the clippers put away.
I cringed as your footed pajamas gathered the bits of hair. But I couldn’t stop you. All that hair to sweep was showing you the methodology of sweeping. Instead of brushing at invisible dust, you could see exactly what you were doing, and you were doing it well.
I told your daddy to guess who was sweeping up his hair.
“Don’t let her walk in it and get her pajamas all hairy?”
I laughingly told him it was too late. He decided he’d hide in the shower for a while longer.
Daddy’s hairs were spread much further through the kitchen than was normal for a hair cut. And I think I’m going to have to vacuum before Uncle Will and Aunt Natalie arrive this afternoon.
But now you know how to do more than just push the broom around: you know how to sweep. So it was worth the mess.
I’m so proud of my little helper!
Lots of love,
(who is not ready to cut your hair any time soon!)