Golden Afternoon

Funny moment on Sunday:

On a car ride back from my cousin's wedding in San Marcos, the kids were doing something in the back seat that Eli and I weren't really paying attention to, until talk got a little louder. When we tuned in, Colin had just handed Hallie a single sunflower petal.

Her response was over-the-top gratitude, "Oh, thank you, that's so very kind of you!" She petted the petal, holding it to her cheek, murmuring lovingly to it.

Meanwhile, Colin had a double handful of petals, which he was muttering over in a voice that was half-Golem, half-crazy-prospector--"It's gold. Gold, I tell you!!"--while shaking his flowery fists to the roof of the car in triumph.

And the thing was, the petals had come from the wedding bouquet which the bride had bestowed on Hallie the night before. Colin was intensely jealous of this--being so keenly attuned to injustice as it pertains to things his sister gets and he doesn't--so he had ripped the heads off about four sunflowers, denuded them, and then, perhaps feeling a distant twinge of something vaguely like guilt, gave back a single petal. Which she adored beyond reason, because her beloved big brother gave her something (a tragically rare occurrence), never realizing that they were ALL hers by rights.

And when did he learn about crazy prospectors, anyway??

Follicle Follies

I never did get back to the Tragedy of Hallie's Hair, did I? Well, it wasn't actually that bad, as it turned out...but in a nutshell, it was this:

Hallie woke up one day with the most colossally bad tangle I've ever seen hanging just off-center at the back of her head. I girded myself for battle with a comb and nearly-full bottle of spray detangler, and waded in...only to gape with dawning horror as every strand I untangled fell off her head and into my hand. If I can figure out the complicated machinations necessary, I'll include a picture of the large mass of escaped hair, because, really, it was hard to fathom. I thought I must have been causing this follicular exodus (insert pangs of terrified guilt), until I looked more closely, and saw that, instead of falling out at the root, these strands were leaving behind two or three inches still attached, mixed in with hanks of the correct length.

This was mystifying...as was the process of trying to get a definitive answer from a three year old who thinks--is not sure--but thinks she might be in trouble, and also is easily distracted by shiny objects. Especially mirrors reflecting her favorite image, herself. (Note to self: never interrogate Hallie in the bathroom, ever again.)

So...I may never know exactly what happened, because accounts vary depending on mood, person asking, and whether or not princesses are involved...but I think that Hallie was toodling around in her room in the dark again (she has stopped the nocturnal cleaning sessions, but nocturnal toodling is still hip), came across a contraband pair of scissors she had "borrowed" from Colin earlier that day, and just stuck them in her hair in random spots, snipping occasionally, causing the hair to fall only part way out, and then tangle. That's my theory.

End result: no bald patches, just weirdly thin places that defy styling of any kind, and straggle down looking like her mother doesn't brush her hair. This bothers me almost more than a shaved head would, that I might be perceived as letting my child out of the house with an unkempt head. I think my soul just died a little. Me, the Queen of the Well-Placed Bow (well, Arch Duchess...my mother's the Queen). And I thought broken bones were traumatic...