Monday, I was taking out some of Zoë’s braids for a new do for picture day.  I had some scissors out (can you predict where this might be leading?) to cut the bands off the bottom of the braids.  I took out a few braids and Noah called for me.  I left the living room to help Noah and put the chicken in the oven.  Zoë comes into the kitchen with this look of horror on her face and tears brimming in her sweet little doe-like eyes.

I immediately asked her what happened.

“Scissors” she whimpered

“WHAT?”

“Hair” she cried.

I look at her little whisp of hair that  is now nearly 2 inches shorter than the rest of her hair.

I knew it was bound to happen and can say at first I was so mad at her for picking up the scissors and then so mad at myself for leaving the scissors out for her to be able to pick up.

“Why did you use the scissors?” I demanded in the nicest voice I could muster.

“I didn’t know.” she cried.  Or more aptly–she bawled.

She was hysterical.  She asked me to sew it back on.  And that just broke my heart.  She grabbed at my long hair and cried and cried.

it’s not so bad and I can style her hair to make it completely unnoticeable.  I had only taken out two of her cornrows at this point so the amount of hair cut is minimal.  And the way her hair shrinks up when the curls dry will also keep it pretty unnoticeable.

I promised her it would grow back and she promised to never use scissors on her hair again.