Torture at the hair salon

With the sounds of screams and wails still echoing in my mind, I am sitting down to write about the horrific experience of Charlotte's first hair cut. Or, if she were telling the story: the day my parents tied me down and tortured me while they took pictures and ignored my screams for help.

I've been pondering Charlotte's first hair cut for a while. I know you shouldn't compare siblings, but some things are just obvious. Molly has curls. My curls. They started showing up before she was 1, and we were able to delay her first hair cut until she was about 3 and a half. With curls, you can't see the unevenness of hair growth. It just looks cute and curly. Charlotte has more of the Lafferty hair, because, with the exception of a couple of cow-licks, it is stick straight.

Now, being a curly girl myself, this straight hair business baffles me. When Charlotte's hair appeared to be headed in the straight direction, I started thinking what we should do with it. (I say "we," but really it was me. Cory, I don't think, put one iota of thought into Charlotte's hair style, unless it was me asking him what he thought of my idea.) My mind immediately went to the adorable little girls with their cute, straight bobs. (Think Suri Cruise when she was younger.) It was settled. That's what we were going to do. But, I didn't know at what age to do it. I didn't want to make her grow up too fast, after all, she's still my baby. However, her mullet in the back was starting to drive me absolutely crazy. I waffled back and forth for quite a while.