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...