Hair, Hair!

We should have known: quiet preschoolers, together, in the other room, with scissors.

Okay, so perhaps we're overly trusting. Or probably more likely naive.

But it ended well.

Well, depending.

Mama and I had finished our breakfast and wandered into the living room where the kids had been playing since finishing their breakfasts. And I saw the hair. The kids had cut the manes off their hobby horses, enjoying playing salon together. But as I examined the mess, I noticed other hair. Human hair.

Sis's hair. She had cut a chunk out of the back of her head. Not a big chunk; there is no bald spot. She said she wanted short hair like Bud and Mama. And she cried that we wouldn't let her finish what she'd started.

Bud confessed that he'd taken a little bit off the top of his hair too, but we couldn't tell at all.

Of course, we all do it: I cut a neighbor boy's hair when I was a preschooler; apparently, Aunt Banana cut her own hair. And at our Groundhog Day party, some girls in our basement cut each other's hair.

So Mama and I didn't flip out. I mean, there was a bit of a mess but no real harm done (in fact, parents that we are, we were hard pressed to explain just what was wrong with trimming hobby horse manes after all, if that's what the kids wanted. Now, their own hair was easier, which is ironic, because, of course, it can grow back, unlike the horses'). We just ended the makeover, took away the scissors, tried to distract them.

And tried to figure out when we could go get them real haircuts (since we didn't go yesterday, as planned, 'cos Sis threw up first thing in the morning, which altered all our plans) and how in the world we could get the hair off of everything!