Haircut!

...And what a haircut it is! After many months of arguing, negotiating, and digging in of heels, Camryn finally allowed me to take her to Chelsea and get her cute little bob back. What, you ask, could have possibly changed her mind so certainly and so abruptly? Why, a brief remark by one of her 5 year old friends, of course, who happened to mention that sometime in the near future, she was thinking about cutting her own locks.

That was it. That's all it took. No more wrestling with tangles. No more stringy, lifeless hair begging to be put into braids, pigtails, or clips. No more gallons of conditioner. Just one comment. If I had known it would be that easy, I would have paid Taryn five bucks to say that about six months ago.

So the good news? I got Camryn into the stylist's chair (or pink hot-rod, as it were) without any tears, kicks, or gnashing of teeth. The bad news? Our beloved stylist misinterpreted my personal definition of "chin-length" to mean "earlobe length." Or, perhaps I wasn't clear enough? Either way, it turned out significantly shorter than Camryn or I intended. The best news? Though much shorter than we anticipated, it still looks darn cute on her, and it will certainly grow to the desired length quick enough.

My takeaway lesson of the day: Never underestimate the power of a child's peers. And always have a five dollar bill handy.