"Like twins," Priscilla had said. "I want my hair cut just like Mary's." My kids were getting shaggy and so I drove them to the salon where each, in turn, were shorned by carefully coiffed stylists in matching black aprons. I made the rounds from one chair to the next, helping as needed and offering encouragment, "Hold still sweetheart. Look down at your toes. Great job, that looks nice. You're almost finished." Priscilla stayed still as a stone, her head bent forward obediently. "How's it going?" I inquired, crouching down on one knee to find her face. Upon seeing a devastated expression, my stomach immediately dropped and I reached for her trembling hands. "Oh honey, its ok! It'll grow back!" Giant tears welled, then fell down her cheeks off her chin and onto the cape protecting her clothing from the locks she was quietly mourning. She wasn't pouting, wasn't whining, wasn't angry or resentful, just sad - pure and simple, and it broke my heart. Hours later she finally rallied, noting her resemblance to Halley Mills in the orginal version of Parent Trap. "Julie Andrews!" said my husband, "from 'Sound of Music;' that's who you look like." And she brightened her dim demeanor using little more than sheer willpower and a timid smile. "There's my girl," I beamed. I adore her.
Flattened cheese Pascha
1 week ago