She’s been asking for hair cuts for several months, ever since she accompanied me to Elli’s haircuts. I’ve appeased her by nibbling at the ends of her hair, giving it a nice even line and trimming the split ends. But never removing much length.
Today, while I was at work and the babysitter was changing The Rascal’s diaper, she grabbed a pair of child’s scissors, hid under the dining room table, and began the haircut she’s been wanting.
She managed to get quite a pile of hair chopped off before being discovered. Including some shortish bangs (sorry for the blurry photo… I had a 17-month-old and a pug clamoring for attention too). We talked a lot about how you don’t cut your own hair, you go to someone who knows how to cut hair (we won’t go into how I tried to save money in college by cutting my own just yet).
She asked me how old you had to be to learn how to cut your own hair. Could you do it when you’re 13? I told her I thought probably 16. Then she said, “Maybe I’ll learn how in preschool next year.”
Since I thought (totally biased opinion of course) that her hair was too pretty to throw out, I had the stylist measure it. I was pretty sure that when those curls were pulled straight, that she had the ten inches required to donate hair to Locks of Love, a public non-profit organization that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children in the United States and Canada under age 18 suffering from long-term medical hair loss from any diagnosis. Sure enough, she had enough to send in!
She loves her new cut because it’s just like her cousin’s. Here we’ve pulled the bangs aside with a barrette. I have to admit that as much as I loved her hair long, it’s adorable in this stacked bob too.
And for the record, the stylist says you have to be 16 to go to cosmetology school, and it takes 2 years to finish. My Little Girl counted… that means she has 13 more years to go.