We are lucky to have a babysitter who helps me out four days a week during the dreaded cocktail hour of 5-7 pm. On occasion, I ask the sitter to give Vivi a bath while I am cooking dinner. She always asks with a cringe, "Do you want me to wash Vivi's hair?" Sometimes, I say yes but even on the days when we don't wash it, the hair goes through an extensive conditioning and brushing out process. We compromise. The sitter washes and conditions and I take on the nightmare of combing it out.
Brushing and untangling all those curls is a test in patience for both me and Vivi. Her hair dreads with little prompting so it has taken me as long as thirty minutes just to get the snarls out. During this time, I regale my daughter with an elaborate story about Schmaneva, a little girl with such a head of uncontrolable curls that when her mother washes and brushes it, she finds all sorts of treasures hidden in the hair. Vivi delights in the story and Schmaneva's mother has found everything from her baby sisters to some poop in her hair. (Hey, my daughter loves poop jokes. What can I say?)
So on Monday night, after the washing and conditioning was done, I sat down with a brush and Vivi and looked at the hair. It was a mess and with little hesitation, I turned to her and said, "How about a haircut?" With even less hesitation, Vivi enthusiastically agreed. (Scissors? Hair? Another perfect three-year old combination!) So instead of brushing it out, I made one big cut along the back. This is the result:
And the casualties: