I Don’t Want To Deal With Growing It Out Again

My son wanted to dye his hair a few months ago.   I thought it would be fun.   He thought it would be cool.   We scheduled with Hasan and when we got there my son said he wanted green—major green.   To get the green we had to bleach his hair first and then add the green, which was more of a deep aqua green than a pure green.    When it was done he looked like a little elf.  

I loved it.   My son did too at first, but then he got over it.   He knew it was permanent, but he didn’t realize the full impact of, “permanent” which meant months to fully grow out.   It’s been slowly fading to more light green but it’s still green.   When I ask him from time to time what color he wants next, he always says he wants brown.   Just brown.   I’ve talked about purple, orange, red, blue or even just bleaching it again because it looked pretty nice bleached, but he has been steadfast in his wish to just have brown hair.

Today we went to get his hair cut for the second time since he had it colored.   Hasan and I talked to him about colors, egging him on, and he was considering a mix of red and orange, based on a picture of a woman with pink and purple hair in a magazine we saw while we waited his turn.   But then he  thought about it and said, “I don’t want to deal with growing it out again.”   So I think he’s done with colored hair for now.   Or at least until he gets bored with brown hair.

The Big Boy Update:  We played a new dinner-time game tonight: “Five Things”.   We each list five things we’re grateful for.   I went first and said the standard things.   My son went next and I was pretty impressed with his five:  “I’m thankful for parents who take care of me, that we aren’t poor, that I have a sister who’s nice to me, that we have a happy life and that I have a good family.”  

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  We got a package from Aunt Jo in the mail today.   I was letting my daughter open it and as is the case with a lot of things, the socks she had sent were inside a bag and then each individually wrapped by the manufacturer.   After a minute my daughter said, “I think all she gave me is a bunch of bags.”