Six Inches

My daughter wanted to get her hair cut.   She's wanted to get it cut many times before now but since it grows very slowly with only two or fewer hair cuts each year, I don't jump to scheduling an appointment for her until I know it's really something she wants.   

Her hair has gotten long, very long, in the past two years.   Some time back, after she first lost her sight, we had her hair cut short with bangs.   That was a mistake, I think, as the style didn't frame her face well.  Our neighbor's daughter looks great with the same haircut, but it just didn't suit my daughter.  

My daughter has asked to have her hair colored many times as well and that, too, I have waited out only to find out she was happy with her hair the way it was.   But this time, she was serious.   She asked how much hair she needed in order to donate it and I told her she had enough, but it wouldn't leave much for her, so she decided on an inch. 

Those were the two extremes and her deciding last night she wanted four-and-a-half inches taken off (exactly).   Today, after talking to Sue when we arrived, they went for six inches.   That was about four inches more than I really wanted to see gone, but even I realized it was getting unruly beyond management and needed some removed from the perspective of damaged ends as well. 

As it turns out, six inches was a good amount.   She still has hair, "down to my boobies" as she put it.   She doesn't have hair that long, but after leaning over and making her hair reach her chest, she decided it was, "boobit length" to her.   

She washes her hair, brushes her hair, braids her hair, and puts it up in a ponytail a lot of the time.   I still help with some of all of that, but she is managing her hair a lot more now than she has in the past and it seemed fair to cut it to a length she'd be happy with. 

The Big Boy Update:  My son offered to do his reading today without complaint—to everyone's surprise.   There is a second book in the series he's reading he wanted to start after finishing the first book yesterday. 

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter, after days of high order rudeness and anger, was a complete lady to Sue as well as the shoe store we went to afterward to get her some much-needed shoes.   All her shoes were tight on her feet, she told me when we got in the car to get her hair cut, she told me—something I hadn't known about until today.  She wanted sandals with flowers on them, crocs for all-weather wear, and some light-up sneakers for everything else.