As if she'd heard my recent ramblings about women's general lack of ability to cut hair, Sophia decided to prove me right. On Saturday evening, armed with her sister's scissors, she hacked off uneven chunks off her own fringe resulting in a look that was a cross between hilly-billy meets post-punk.
I didn't even scream because I'm a hardened Mom of 4 who've seen pretty much all and then multiply that figure by 4. Monique had done something similar to herself at the same age and I did go ballistic. Aidan decided to hone his hair-cutting skills on Sophia earlier this year which had me doing a little yelling and jumping routine. This time, I did nothing. Maybe I shifted my butt on the couch into a comfier spot. I figured that if it ain't bleeding, we were doing just fine.
Her Dad said that her Bambi-eyes "don't work on him no more". Cute is going to take a while to grow back. Better that than jagged ears or ripped eye-balls, hey?
I'm such an optimist.
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