Tuesday returns with a vengeance

Last week I blogged about how I dislike Tuesdays and then last Tuesday turned out to be a pretty dull day. Today I let my guard down and had no expectations for the day, good or bad. I made Scott and Anna lunch and then turned on Balto, which was airing on HBO. Generally a movie we don't own holds their attention pretty well. I had to come upstairs to change Lizzie's diaper. She began to seem drowsy and the older ones were being relatively quiet downstairs so, assuming they were simply enjoying their movie, I held Elizabeth for a bit while she began drifting off to sleep. It was such a nice, peaceful few minutes.

Suddenly I was brought back to reality when Scott excitedly hollered at me from downstairs, "Mom, I can cut my hair!" In a flash I realized what was going on. I had purchased a two-pack of safety scissors (a complete misnomer, as nothing is safe in the hands of a two-year-old) last week, thinking it would be a good idea for the kids to develop good scissor skills. Apparently, Scott had gotten his scissors out, which could only mean that Anna had hers as well.

I know that Scott knows better than to cut his hair so I instantly made the conclusion that he had probably only made one snip to his hair, which he then immediately confessed too. I, correctly, figured that he was only doing this because he was seeing his little sister get away with cutting her own hair. Why he didn't tell on her, I will never understand, as he is a fabulous tattle-tale.

By the time I safely put the baby down and rushed down the stairs, it was too late. Anna had already cut all of her hair, save for two wisps in the back. She cut at least six inches off all the way around.

I was devastated. I admit, I have always been, probably too much, very proud of her beautiful, silky, long blond locks of hair. They are no more. She has given herself a bob. Here are the results.


These were taken immediately after the deed was done.













Here is the result after a bath. It's not nearly as bad as it could be. Actually, for a two-year-old, it's not bad at all. Maybe one day she'll be a beautician. In the meantime, I will still be mourning her beautiful, long rings of gold.