Like many moms, I am in constant battle between micromanaging every aspect of the Short Peoples' existence and letting them handle things appropriately on their own. Since I have two kids at opposite ends of the independence spectrum, this is somewhat of a challenge for my control-freak nature. Brainy Boy is completely happy letting me fulfill my management needs by picking out his clothes and combing his hair. In his mind, if it fits, it matches. And as long as he can see through his bangs, his hair is tidy enough. And he'd just as soon let me bother with it all as bother with it himself.
Little Chic, on the other hand, has long considered herself a fashionista and as such, takes all matters of personal appearance into her own hands. That's scary when said fashion maven is three years old. And when she has one favorite outfit that she considers her uniform. So early on, we had to establish a few ground rules. The clothes need to be clan. The clothes need to fit. And the hair must stay out of the eyes.
Now, it was easy to manipulate these rules to my liking in the early days. I could conveniently keep the faded kitty-cat shirt on the bottom of the laundry pile. I could ask the hairdresser to cut the bangs a little shorter so it was impossible for them to fall eyeward. But then she caught on. She started asking about the shirt she hadn't seen in two weeks. She decided to grow her hair out. And I let her! What was I thinking?!
Once school started, it has gotten worse. I do occasionally hint that chocolate brown and black don't make the most attractive color combination, but other than that, I try to bite my tongue. And it's not the outfits that bother me so much. It's the hair. It's now gotten almost waist length. Believe me when I say that it is not a pretty site on an active 10 year old when hair is left to its own devices. Some days, I think it's Cousin Itt coming off the school bus calling me "Mom." Of course I've done my part to introduce clips, scrunchies and headbands. Sometimes they go to school in the appropriate place. But they never return. At the end of the day, the hair tie has somehow gone to hair tie abyss and is never to be seen again.
But this week was different. It was if I had never ever introduced the concept of a ponytail. Little Chic came in the bathroom before we left for school and asked me to put her hair up for her. "A high one ," she specified. I did, assuming that it would last for the first hour, and said my appropriate goodbyes to the scrunchie I'd never see again. But when she got off the bus, I saw a wonderful thing. The hair was fairly as I'd left it that morning! I started to jump with glee but I restrained myself. It's better to not notice the things you want to encourage. There's much more likelihood that it'll last if they think it's their own idea. The next day was the same. I'm pleased to report that it lasted all week. For the time being, Cousin Itt has disappeared and I'm hoping he has been inducted into the Fashion Hall of Shame, never to visit Little Chic again. Unless for Halloween.
Little Chic, on the other hand, has long considered herself a fashionista and as such, takes all matters of personal appearance into her own hands. That's scary when said fashion maven is three years old. And when she has one favorite outfit that she considers her uniform. So early on, we had to establish a few ground rules. The clothes need to be clan. The clothes need to fit. And the hair must stay out of the eyes.
Now, it was easy to manipulate these rules to my liking in the early days. I could conveniently keep the faded kitty-cat shirt on the bottom of the laundry pile. I could ask the hairdresser to cut the bangs a little shorter so it was impossible for them to fall eyeward. But then she caught on. She started asking about the shirt she hadn't seen in two weeks. She decided to grow her hair out. And I let her! What was I thinking?!
Once school started, it has gotten worse. I do occasionally hint that chocolate brown and black don't make the most attractive color combination, but other than that, I try to bite my tongue. And it's not the outfits that bother me so much. It's the hair. It's now gotten almost waist length. Believe me when I say that it is not a pretty site on an active 10 year old when hair is left to its own devices. Some days, I think it's Cousin Itt coming off the school bus calling me "Mom." Of course I've done my part to introduce clips, scrunchies and headbands. Sometimes they go to school in the appropriate place. But they never return. At the end of the day, the hair tie has somehow gone to hair tie abyss and is never to be seen again.
But this week was different. It was if I had never ever introduced the concept of a ponytail. Little Chic came in the bathroom before we left for school and asked me to put her hair up for her. "A high one ," she specified. I did, assuming that it would last for the first hour, and said my appropriate goodbyes to the scrunchie I'd never see again. But when she got off the bus, I saw a wonderful thing. The hair was fairly as I'd left it that morning! I started to jump with glee but I restrained myself. It's better to not notice the things you want to encourage. There's much more likelihood that it'll last if they think it's their own idea. The next day was the same. I'm pleased to report that it lasted all week. For the time being, Cousin Itt has disappeared and I'm hoping he has been inducted into the Fashion Hall of Shame, never to visit Little Chic again. Unless for Halloween.
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donna s.
Thanks for always coming over to see me. I seriously have run out of blogging time! Love to hear from you!!!