Cut Me Some Slack

Naptime is officially a thing of the past for Xanthe. Too bad we didn't realize that yesterday, before Xanthe spent today's nap time in her room cutting off her pigtails and carefully throwing them in the garbage. What a conscientious girl! I wish I had a glimpse into the thought process where cutting your hair off at the root is a good idea. See the elastic in the garbage? Yep. She cut off the whole thing.

Scott discovered the new look and was pretty dismayed. My reaction was about what you would expect when your fifth kid cuts her hair: "Huh. So she's in the hair cutting stage. OK." (Stifle a giggle. She does look pretty ridiculous.) If you have to ask why on earth Xanthe had access to scissors during her nap, you don't have kids. Or maybe you have kids but you don't own any scissors. Or maybe you're insanely controlling. In that case, we can't be friends. If we were friends, my kid could potentially cut your kid's hair someday and then we REALLY wouldn't be friends. So let's preempt that now, as well as the scenario where you come to get your kid at my house and he's wearing a tutu and mismatched moon boots and the scenario where my kid comes to your house and squirts dish soap all over the carpet. See? We can't be friends, even if you hide your scissors. Let's not even try.

I guess Xanthe's hair will grow, just like Ari's did when she hacked off her bangs. I cut my own hair when I was about ten. Hey, I was a late bloomer. I think I was watching an Olivia Newton-John exercize video and I needed bangs to curl over the braided, terrycloth headband I was wearing on my forehead. So I cut some bangs. That would have been harmless, but I started thinking my mom would be mad. I panicked and pulled the bangs out completely. I can't believe I honestly thought the hair wouldn't grow back. I was absolutely mortified when stubble started growing along my forehead. The whole agonizing time the stubble was growing out, my mom never noticed.

If you see Xanthe, you'll notice. She looks...adorable.