Welcome to the KingZoo and Funny Farm, where we learn to live, laugh, and love together. Here you'll find snippets of life in our zoo, parenting tips we've learned along the way, reflections on shining God's light in this world, passions in the realm of orphan care, and our journey as parents of a visually impaired child with sensory processing disorder. Have fun!
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
The nice thing about this fact is that a parent can always tell early-on. No use setting a child up for failure or disappointment later in life. It's best to just face it as early as possible, choose to explore other talents and gifts, and pursue them.
My innocent victim was my doll. I didn't just give her a trim; I gave her a sort of spotty close shave. Just in case I would ever forget this first experience and decide to pursue a career involving hair and a scissors, my mom was kind enough to save this doll for me. She is a constant reminder that I should only be in the stylist's chair, not behind it.
Jesse was the first of my children to wonder if they might have some talent in this area. I found an area on the back of Andrew's head that was shorter than that around it. He was too young to be able to believably confirm or deny the accusation so I was never able to say with confidence that he had done it. However, I do know that I did not attempt a buzz cut with a scissors and unless Andrew is a contortionist, there's no way he could have gotten this spot himself.
Daisy* was 4 years old when she attempted a similar type of career exploration. Unfortunately she tried it out neither on an inanimate object nor on a sibling, but on herself. It was soon after she had received a really bad hair cut at one of those cheap hair cutting places where they employ people whose mothers should have discouraged them at an early age. So when her hair one day looked worse than the day before, I asked Daisy if she had cut it. She very believably denied it so I just thought it was the funny way it was growing in after the professional fiasco. Until she went to my mom's house and my mom asked her if she had cut her hair. Without missing a beat, she told my mom that I had done it. Now the suspicion was beginning to grow. That night, I lifted up her pillow to find not a small chunk of Daisy-colored hair, but a very large chunk.
I called my stylist who assured me that she deals with this kind of thing all the time and that it would be no problem to fix it up. We scheduled an appointment for the next day. Tara was still assuring me that she could fix anything as she plopped Daisy into the chair but then changed her tune with a very sorrowful, "Oh no." Apparently she is able to fix all wrecks but the one I brought to her.
Post-professional Fix, front view (More damage on sides and back)
That life-changing experience not only kept Daisy from the scissors but must have also scared her siblings into foregoing hair-related career choices because we had many beautiful, happy, and carefree days between 2002 and 2011.
Until today. HopeAnne had asked to have her cornrows taken out Sunday afternoon and to have her hair in a "ponytail and poof." Since the month was almost up and it was close to time to change her hairstyle, and because I had the few hours necessary for the painful and time-consuming task, I agreed. This morning, as I was adding the daily dose of moisturizer to her hair, I noticed a large section no longer in the ponytail. I didn't think a whole lot of it until I also found a bald patch near the front of her right side. I asked her if she had cut it. She denied it. Then I went to comb the area that wasn't in the ponytail and lo, and behold, it came right off her head and stayed on the comb. I asked again. This time she knew she was busted and admitted it. The tears came, too.
Then she had to face the family. Older brothers can be quite good at instilling the fear of God in a 4 year old who is now sporting a not-so-attractive bald spot. I'm just glad they had a snow day so they were here to back me up on this one.
*Name changed to protect the innocent.
In the interest of full disclosure, I want to make it very clear that I DO ask my victims for permission to use their names and their stories in my blogs. Sometimes it is necessary to change names to protect the innocent. I respect each individual's need for privacy and protection and will alter, omit, or change facts to uphold their reputations. At times it takes more cajoling and persuasion than at others, but I never post something without full permission granted.