Once upon a time, a little girl was born. Her Mummy was pleased to have a little girl. Her Mummy had visions of pretty pigtails, of cute little dresses, of a quiet and gentle young child.
Her Mummy didn't realise that she had, in fact, welcomed a tomboy into her family....
For the first few years, however, the little girl was happy enough to grow her hair long. On occasion, she would consent to having her hair plaited into pretty pigtails, and at times she would even wear pink! Generally, though, even persuading her to allow her hair to be brushed was something of a daily battle.
When the little girl was 3, she started to attend a pre-school playgroup every morning. She absolutely loved her pre-school. She made many new friends. Unfortunately, a fairly common side effect of mingling with lots of other children, particularly if you have long hair, is - I think some of you can see this one coming, yes? Shall we say 'little visitors' that camp in the hair?!
If the little girl was unhappy about a soft child's brush being pulled through her hair each day, this was nothing compared with the fuss she made about the steel-toothed comb and special shampoo. Her Mummy persevered, though, and eventually managed to clear the little beasties away.
For a while.
The trouble was, even though the little girl's head was regularly cleared of 'visitors', she was still mingling with lots of other children, and new 'visitors' would keep arriving. In the end, both the little girl and her Mummy had had enough. They agreed that perhaps the time had come for the little girl to sport a new and trendy bob. They were actually away on holiday at the time, but by rooting around in the drawers of the self-catering cottage they were able to find a pair of kitchen scissors, and the little girl's Mummy set to work.
It actually really suited the little girl's cheeky face, especially after it* had been tidied up by a hairdresser back home!
The little girl never grew her hair long again**. In fact, her hair is now so short that she is frequently mistaken for a boy.
She thinks this is wonderful.
Her Mummy consoled herself by making plans to scrapbook the photos with a dreaful pun of a title such as 'Hair today, gone tomorrow'.
This post was brought to you by Sian's Storytelling Sunday and the Melsh archives
* The hair, not the face. Obviously. Why must you be so pedantic? *sigh!* (Yes, The Mother, I do mean you...)
** So far, anyway. Who knows what the future will hold?
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