A few months back, my wife Carol says to me, “What should we do about Lydia’s hair?” I, being a new age, sensitive guy, said, “Huh?” I mean, it’s “girl’s hair.” I was never a girl. How would I know?
What I DID know was that my sisters used to have their hair straightened when they were little with a hot comb. Judging by their howls, this was an…uncomfortable thing to go through. And it smelled, some gag-inducing stench. Then, styles (most fortunately) changed and they each ended up with a natural ‘do.
So, I’m thinking, I liked the modified ‘fro Lydia seems to have developed.
I figure she’d grow it until it hit Angela Davis proportions:
Then one day, at her new daycare, the girls were having ponytails done. Not wanting Lydia to feel left out, one of her caretakers did Lydia’s hair, so that it looked like this:
Then, soon after, like this:
And yes, we told her not to sit that way. Right after the picture was taken. Looks kinda Princess Leia to me.
So the process continues, as it were. I suppose we could solve the problem this way:
Happy 19 months, Lydia. I love you.
