As I was doing one of the many picking up junk around the house tours over the weekend, I noticed a chunk of dark brown hair. It was on the floor, right next to the drawer where the scissors are kept. The girls were both out with J when I found it- I honestly couldn't tell whose hair it was. I suspected S, but that was pure profiling. She is totally the one who would cut her hair.
Later, at the dinner table, I said to J, " you know, I found the strangest thing today- some brown hair on the floor. Right over there!" We watched as H turned her face away from us. Her body language suggested she'd like to be swallowed up by the floor. J and I kept going pretending not to notice, and trying not to laugh. "I know its not my hair, was it your hair?" Then we looked a little closer and saw that H was very upset. We felt awful to say the least. She finally looked at me, her face all wet- "it was an accident!" then she was sobbing.
I am a little troubled about where my mind went at this point. I was more concerned that she didn't cover her tracks. What does it mean that she is so upset to be found out but does nothing to hide the evidence? Growing up, that was my sister, K. It used to make me crazy that she would go into my room, go through my things, and not even pretend that she hadn't. She'd deny it, sure, but she'd never put anything back where it was. Then again I took great precautions not to be discovered. I would lay single hairs across my drawers to see if they'd been opened, and make sure to notice which direction the label was pointing on a bottle of shampoo that belonged to one of my sisters so I could put it back exactly where it was and they wouldn't know if I'd used it.
As a mother, I am happy H didn't hide the hair she cut off- I would never have known about it otherwise. Was she upset about it already, and we just brought it out by talking about it? Or had she forgotten all about it? She has said she wishes she had short hair- was it really an accident? I am so torn by all of this- I always wished I was the kind of kid who cut her hair all off, but as far as I ever got was as far as H got. I was always too responsible. I never wanted to let anyone down.
My mother did let me get the short hair cut I wanted- I was in 1st grade, the woman who cut it asked how I wanted it to look in the back. I had no idea. "We'll give you a duck tail" she said. "Do you know why they call it that? Because the back of your head looks like a ducks behind!" HA HA HA. I was horrified, even at 6. All my new short hair did was cause everyone to think I was a boy, since I was always a bit of a tomboy anyway.
So there- that is a lot of my resisting H getting her hair cut. I don't want anyone to call her head a duck butt. Besides her hair is gorgeous. Thick, luxurious. Perfect. And what does she say to me? "Mom is there anyway my hair can look like yours? Your hair is so shiny! Like gold." I would gladly trade with her if I could, but that is so not the lesson to be learned in all this.