Gary is a mover and a shaker, a virtual tornado of hyper activity. I am more of a gentle summer breeze that can kick up on occasion and die down just as quickly. Much to his dismay, I have a bad habit of not finishing projects. In my pre-kid days, I would leave things unfinished because I became bored with what I was working on. Gary hates that. Now that I have kids, my projects are frequently interrupted because someone is crying or needing something or yelling “help help mommy, I trouble!”. Nevertheless, I am always leaving my unfinished business scattered around the house.
I worked at the emergency clinic for a few hours last night so that everyone could attend a staff meeting. Which meant that Gary was in charge of getting the wee ones off to bed. I got home at 10:30 last night and everyone was sound asleep…ahhh. I didn’t notice that anything was awry this morning until I opened my email and read a disturbing series of messages from Gary’s Blackberry. I will post them to you just as I read them.
What do you get when you have this…
Nice going (insert unkind nickname here). You might want to put the scissors away when you are done with them Little Miss I Can’t Finish My Projects and Pick Up After Myself! Hope U like Chloe’s new haircut cause she does! Love you.
I almost vomited when I saw this picture! My little girl's beautiful golden locks were hacked and slashed. I couldn't imagine what sort of monster would do this to my baby's head...was someone trying to punish me for some bad I deed I had committed? Is the universe trying to teach me a lesson? I sent Gary an email in virtual panic, trying to sort out the series of events that transpired last night while I was at work, helping a poor little pug who had been run over by a hit- and-run ice cream truck.
Gary called me back and said “how do you like the bob?”. I was furious, hurt, confused and on the verge of tears. He told me that he was feeding Ella last night and putting her down for bed when he realized that things were a little too quiet (please see my post on Invasion of the Bowl Heads). When he entered the bathroom to see what was going on, he found this scene. He said that Chloe was sitting on top of the counter, scissors in hand, cutting her own hair. He also said that she said something, which he can’t remember, but that it was “f*@#ing hilarious!”. OMG.
I had left the scissors on the counter 3 nights ago because I had the intention of trimming her hair. But I would always forget, or be interrupted or have a case of nerves…what if I screwed up her hair?!!?
I hadn’t noticed the butchering this morning because Chloe always wakes up with a severe case of bed head. After reading my emails, I marched her upstairs, wet her hair and combed it out to survey the damage. For a split second I considered shaving her head just to teach her a lesson. But then I realized that the only person that would punish would be me. Chloe could care less about what her hair looks like, and would probably think it was cool that she had the same hair cut as daddy. So I picked up my scissors and tried to salvage what was left. She looks a bit like a little Dutch boy, but I guess there could be worse things.
I have learned several valuable lessons today.
Lesson #1: finish the projects that I start
Lesson #2: keep scissors away from the babies. Even though I didn’t think a 2 1/2 year old would know how to use them, apparently she does.
Lesson #3: it could have been much worse. She could have cut bangs.
With that, I am off to put away any and all implements of destruction laying around the house.