I'm recouping from a surgery, and so my mom was here at the house helping me with the children. She was picking up their room when she heard Amelia say, "I need a haircut. I need to look fabulous" while admiring herself in mirror. Mom didn't think anything of it. Then she saw Amelia go for the baby scissors in the changing table drawer, but she also heard her say she couldn't find them. Just then, I heard a loud thump, and ran to the nursery. Mom had tripped over the baby trying to stop Amelia ... from cutting her hair.
It was too late. It was the third and final snip. And all I could do was pick my darling daughter's three locks of hair from the floor and even garbage. Yes, garbage. Technically, this was her first haircut, minus the time Momma trimmed her bangs on New Year's Eve ... unbeknownst to me. I wasn't going to let that hair go and put it straight into a Ziploc for safekeeping. I couldn't even speak. Amelia was devastated enough as it was. When she realized what she had done, she wailed and cried herself to sleep. Poor baby. I'm pretty sure she learned her lesson.
Did I mention school pictures were the next day?
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