Dear Hair

Oh hair, you keep her head warm- with that much mop, there isn’t really an alternative. No scarves necessary, she tells me, just wrap the end around and you make her fuzzy warm. Sigh.

I don’t have the energy to fight the willpower you provide. It’s like the tangles that multiply every time I turn my head, have a hypnotizing effect on her. She doesn’t mind at all the birds’ nests that take up residence over her ears. She is an animal lover after all.

You’ve managed to go such a long time, avoiding the scissors, the brush, the comb, the fingers. It’s quite the miracle really, or the kid simply has a very tired momma. I’m leaning toward the miracle though. I tell you, you’ve given her a steely resolve. Not even the fancy and smooth doos of her besties break her.

You’re a lot darker than you used to be, partly because you are beginning to rival Rapunzel in length. I think if we trimmed you, you would lighten up a bit. I tried that argument once, but you know what I was told hair? Belle, Pocahontas, and Mulan, to name a few, have beautiful darker hair. Oh geez, really?

We’ve reached a braided stalemate mister. It’s buying me some reprieve from the tantrum inducing, tear falling brushing sessions. I suppose I can thank you for that. Although you’ve been looking a little fuzzy around the edges lately, I mean it’s looking lovely my dear. Just lovely.