I came down the stairs, and peered over to see what Clare and Stella were up to at the computer. Then I noticed the hair.
The hair on the floor. The scissors on the desk. And the chin length chunks cut from around her face and through all the side pieces.
Stella’s hair had just reached a beautiful length, long, thick, strawberry blonde. Easy to plait or put into pigtails to keep it off her face for childcare. She said that she still wanted it to be long, so rather than cut it all off to the shortest lengths – which would have been about ear length – in consultation with the hairdresser we tried for long layers.
Now we’re trying to decide if it is a little bit rock chick or a little bit bogan.
Either way, she’s happy, and seems to have absorbed the lesson that “next time you want your hair cut, tell Mummy and she will take you to the hairdresser. Do NOT cut it yourself”.