Magdalena started to say something, then the phone rang and it was my mom, and I just walked out of her room and thought, ya know, you really don't need to put her in twenty years of therapy just because she chopped her hair off to her scalp on the top of her head, think of something reasonable to say. So I went back in there and said, I just need for you to pick up all your piles of hair and put them in a bag, and then we're going to take a shower and go to a stylist and fix it up. It'll be fabulous. She said, mama - it's not a mullet. I said, uh, yeah it is, business in the front and party in the back, we're going to have it shaped up a bit.
It took me a few minutes to realize that Augustus had not escaped her second effort at being a stylist. Yes, there was a first a couple of months ago when she trimmed about 4-6 inches off the front of her hair and it gave her really nice long bangs around her face, I actually complimented her on her handy work, ya know, not trying to encourage her but out of a grudging admission that she did a really nice job. Little did I know there was more to come. But really, she is my daughter, what exactly do I expect?
She had a quiet moment in the chair, looking at herself, a bit worried, watching the hair dresser who kept muttering Adios Mio! put a lovely stacked bob in her hair, and she looked at me and said, it's ok mama. It'll grow back.