Tuesday, May 10, 2005

GOLDIE LOCKS

Grace had her first haircut today. A very nice experience, no trauma, and best of all NO BANGS. We went to a cute place called Jack n' Jill's in our hometown of Ventura. The gal was very nice, had lots of toys and was in no hurry to get started. Once The Girl was in the chair though, the whole thing was over in less than five minutes. I mean, I know The Girl is just a wee one with a tiny person's head and not so much hair, but I am used to the long version: start with thumbing through magazines, then a lovely neck massage, good smelling shampoo, minty-fresh conditioner, catching up on the stylist's life, yakking about mine, herbal tea, chatting with the other folks who work at the salon. But I guess when you are a cutting a kids hair, a squirt bottle, fast scissors, a Dora DVD and a good supply of lap toys are the essentials.

I kept some hair for the scrapbook (who's kidding who? [it's actually who's kidding whom? but this always makes people stop reading and go, "Is that right?"] The scrapbook is actually a box with a calendar from her first year, random pictures and stuff from Dr. visits). Dawn, the owner, also presented Grace with a certificate for bravery and a Polaroid to commemorate the event. I snapped a few pics too and will post.

The Girl looks adorable (as always) but no longer has wispy crap falling in her eyes. The cut shortened it all up which helped the curls come back full force. Damn, she is cute. I am one lucky Mommy. Who ever thought I would have a sweet little blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl? And of course I colored my hair today and it turned out rather dark (no auburn, just medium brown). So people will continue to look at me and say, "I guess your husband is blonde." And I will just smile and say, "Yep, she looks just like her daddy," even though I want to tell them to shut up and that YES, she REALLY IS mine. One day soon however, she'll say it herself because, while she may look just like her Daddy, she has her Mommy's sass. That's sass with an S, folks.

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