I was opening a box of unsalted butter in the kitchen.
Alex was in the dining room cutting out the peacock I’d just drawn for him.
Julia was also in the dining room. She’d wanted me to draw a leopard for her to cut out, even though her scissor skills are not yet as her brother’s.
I’m peeling open the end of the box.
And I hear an annoyed three years and almost five months old voice complain:
"Mommy, I’m trying to cut my hair and it’s not coming off!"
And I dashed into the room and there, on the dark green tablecloth, were many 4-inch lengths of her beautiful golden blonde tresses.
Not so many that it’s very very obvious. She didn’t cut her bangs. She cut a chunk from the hair which hangs in delicate layers on the left side of her face.
Now she’s got delicate layers on one side, and a sharp gash on the other.
I guess, in a way, it suits her.