Clara made a frustrated grunting noise and I turned around in my chair to see what was the matter. She was curled up on in the corner of the couch with her hands tangled in a mass of rubber bands that she was trying to extract from her hair.

She looked at me and sighed, letting her hands fall loose in her hair. Her fingers adding floppy white tentacles to the pile of floppy brown bundles of wheat that were tied together into a strange sea creature on the top of her head.

opened my mouth to ask how this situation had even happened but I found I was too stunned to even speak.

The little girl rolled her eyes back up towards the ceiling and went back to struggling. I heard a rubber band snap somewhere deep inside the knot of hair. She winced and said, “Now I know what a Bad Hair Day is…”

“Yes,” I said calmly. “This happens to all of us sometimes.” I slowly turned back around in my chair and shook my head.