It wasn't really by choice. It was a small force of nature called Lucy Laabs.
She cut her own hair. Quite short. In the front. Sigh.
You may recall this happened last summer, but we were lucky enough that it didn't really affect her coiffe too much. This time, it was on my watch. She was happily crafting lastnight; kind of doing her own thing. We were in the same room. She climbed up on the couch and promptly fell asleep. I carried her to her bed, and didn't notice a thing until this morning.
She had no explanation, and I found the scissors and hair under her desk.
I was fretting over it as we dressed for church, and Husband was telling me it was bothering me more than it bothered Lucy. Well, of course. There is one piece, right in the middle, that she cut very close to the scalp. We're talking buzz cut territory. I was quite wrapped up in what I was going to do to try and make it look better.
We got to church and at the start of the service, this prayer:
God of forgiving grace,
We are not always patient to wait for your words and your actions in our lives.
We whine and complain and we try to control those things which are out of our control...
I chuckled to myself.
There was nothing I could do about it but take her to a stylist and see about options. Turns out, the only option was bangs. This will allow the short pieces to grow out while somewhat covering them up.
It's cute, but it's going to take some getting used to. Lucy has already said she wants her hair off her forehead... which I guess is a good physical reminder of why she shouldn't do this again.
Because certainly, I don't want to test the theory of "third time is a charm."
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