Big Girl Decision

Four days ago, Cecilia tells me that she needs a haircut and I need to call Mardi. She is mainly saying this because she has heard me say it about two dozen times since May. Then she throws me completely off guard by telling me she wants to really cut her hair. “Mommy, I would like to cut my hair like Dora the Explorer and Lucy from 64 Zoo Lane.” Of course, I turn around expecting to see that little devilish smile she gets when she teases me. But there she is looking at me intently. So I calmly say, “well if we cut your hair off then you won’t be able to touch it to your butt.” I am pretty proud of myself for coming up with such an easy deterrent since the child loves to lean back and sweep her hair back and forth across her butt (and I wanted to grab her and scream NO! Please don’t cut your hair! Not yet!). Cecilia walks up to me and hugs my leg and says, “Don’t worry mommy it will grow back. Hair always grows back.” She is four! And here she is being mature and logical totally sensing that on the inside I am freaking out. Now the issue here is not the actual hair cutting. I have had my hair every length and color over the years. In fact, I rarely got upset over a haircut (except the one time when I was 14 and the girl cut my hair in a Dorothy Hamil on crack style with bangs that were so short they actually stuck straight out from head instead of laying down on my forehead) and have been known to say “it is just hair, it will grow back.” Yes, my butt is still sore from those words coming back to bite me. The thing I am struggling with is that my baby is making a permanent decision all by herself. I have not suggested that she cut her hair. She hasn’t been around anyone recently who has gone from long hair to short. So I tell her okay that I will call. Then I wait a couple of days thinking if I ignore it, it will go away. Then she asks me again if it is time to go see Mardi and get her hair cut. I break down and call hoping that there will be no available appointments until next week so I can wait that much longer. “How is tomorrow at 9:30?” I want to hang up but instead I hear myself say we will be there and rattle off my phone number. 9:30 comes blink of the eye quick. Mardi, being a mother herself, knows that this is traumatic for me. I stand next to Cecilia as she kicks excitedly in the chair with a huge cape around her, her blonde hair reaching past the top of the chair. I can’t help but smile. Back goes the hair in a ponytail and out come the scissors. I wonder if it will scar Cecilia to see me cry over her first real haircut. With every snip of the scissors I see my baby turning into a little girl. Proudly, I did not cry. Despite Cecilia’s usual favorite pastime of looking in the mirror, she could not take her eyes off herself. Mardi takes the cape off and Cecilia launches herself into my arms for a quick snuggle. “I love you mommy.” Okay…so maybe she still is my baby.