I pulled a lock of hair down over my eye and turned to face my daughter Clara. “I think I need a haircut.”
“Oh yeah.” She nodded gravely from her perch on the edge of the bathtub.
I casually brushed at my mop of hair and sighed. “Maybe we can go to a barber next week or something. Anyway, it’s not a big deal, because I can comb it back to the side. See, it’s all better now.”
She frowned, “kinda.” Then she scrunched her nose in disgust. “You see. When you comb it back it doesn’t stay there. It just falls forward again.” She had me do it several times to be sure I understood her meaning. “Okay.” she said finally. “Here’s what you need to do. I’ll go get a rubber band and we can tie your front hair back.” She left in the direction of the bedroom closet.
“Whoa whoa whoa. Slow down little girl.” I stuck my head into the hallway after her. “I’m not wearing a rubber band. Rubber bands make pony tails. I can’t leave the house with a ponytail on my forehead.”
She paused halfway to the bedroom. “Okay. Then I’ll put a bow clip in it. That will be better.” She hopped through the door and started banging around in the closet.
“Clara, I can’t wear a bow on my forehead either. That’s ridiculous.”
Still noisily clawing through the closet, she laughed and then yelled back, “No Dad, a blue bow.” She laughed some more. “It’s not like I’m going to put a pink bow in your hair or something.” There was the sound of a basket full of hairclips being dumped on the floor, “Now THAT would be ridiculous.” She laughed again, picking through the pile.