You Can Trust Me...

Exhibit A: My Little Sister

I was about five years old, and my younger sister was pleading with my mom for a haircut. My mom was busy with housework.

I figured the right thing for an elder daughter to do was to support my hard-working, devoted mother.

She clearly needed me.

So, I snagged the scissors from their resting place in the kitchen, lured my sister into my closet, and reassured her that I knew what I was doing.

I cut her bangs straight back to the middle of her head, clean to the scalp.

Did I mention this was the night before picture day?

Exhibit B: My Daughter

Fast forward a couple of decades.

My daughter was about six and desperately wanted bangs. I wasn’t convinced bangs were the look for her, so I said "no" and went back to what I was doing.

A few minutes later, she strutted by me, proudly flipping her new “bangs" that framed her ears.

My face must have said it all, because without me saying a word, she burst into tears.

She went from proud to distraught in seconds. Embracing my duty as the mom, I guided her back to the bathroom to “fix it.”

"Fixing It"

Again, confident that this couldn't be too difficult. I snagged the same kitchen scissors she had used herself and commenced to "fixing it."

By the end, she was rocking what I'd call a "choppy mullet."

And no, that wasn't the style in her kindergarten class. 

I tried everything I could think of: barrettes, tiny ponytails, creative parts, but there was no hiding it.

After a couple of weeks of painful grow-out, I finally surrendered and took her to the salon.

The Verdict

The stylist took one look and asked,

“Oh! Who cut your hair?”

Before my daughter could rat me out, I jumped in: “She did.”

Technically true.
She started it. I finished it.

Lesson Learned?

Growth is behavioral health...and sometimes, growth includes making the same mistake over and over.