It was bound to happen.

There are certain milestones that happen around the age of three. Potty training, learning to play with other children, passive aggressive response to anything mommy asks her to do, you know the drill. Well, this week Boogaloo fulfilled another one: she cut her hair irreparably. Sigh, good bye, golden curls. I think it happened like this: I knocked the haircutting scissors off the high shelf last Saturday morning as I was getting into the shower, but I didn't know the clatter I heard was scissors, (and I was kind of in a hurry), so I didn't investigate.

Ten minutes later, I pulled back the shower curtain, and I see Boogaloo standing on the toilet, and the bathroom floor covered in curls. She had taken about half of her hair off and had the beginnings of either a decent pixie cut or a stringy mullet going. So on Tuesday (because it was one of those weekends and we were already late), we went to Mastercuts and got the rest of the curls removed. I am willing to admit that it's a cute haircut. I am willing to admit that it suits her, that it's easier to deal with, and that she seems much happier without wisps of hair sliding into her eyes. I'm even willing to admit that after she got into the ziplock bag of of curls that I brought home from the hairdresser and scattered those curls all over her room, I didn't really regret throwing them away all that much. But I sure hope they grow back.