Move Over Paul Mitchell...

*grant writing frenzy interrupted momentarily by an Anna story I must record***

Yesterday, late morning, I get a call on my cell phone. The caller-ID flashes "The Children's Center."

Oh dear - who fell down, threw up, or is bleeding - are my first thoughts.

"Kristen? This is Kevin (Anna's teacher.) I have to tell you something. Today, just now, the kids were cleaning up from Center time to get ready for recess. Anna had a pair of scissors, and, well..."

It's funny how your mind can go at lightening speed. In about 0.6 seconds my worries culminated in fears of "oh lord, she's cut herself, is bleeding, I'm going to have to get her and take her to the ER, I wonder how many stitches she'll need..."

"...well... she cut her hair."

"She cut her hair?"

"Yes, she cut her hair."

(So am I supposed to be angry or upset, because right about now I'm trying to stifle a loud guffaw.)

"She's right here with me now."

"Do you want me to talk to her?" (Because really, what in the world am I supposed to say to my child-turned-barber that could possibly make a difference at this point?)

"Yes."

The phone changes hands.

"Anna?"

"Yes mommy?" (I can barely hear her whispering...)

"Did you cut your hair?"

"Yes."

"Why did you do that?"

pause

longer pause

even longer pause

"I don't know."

I quickly realized the conversation was going nowhere fast - so I told her I loved her, I'll always love her, but I didn't like the choice she'd made and that we'd talk about it later.

I didn't realize how bad the damage was until I picked her up last night (at 5 pm - long after any available hair cuttery place was open.)

Apparently she'd pulled a long strand over her shoulder from her back, and made her cuts. Which wasn't too noticeable - until I brushed it straight. Imagine hair down to her waist, with a 2" swath cut from her shoulder blade to her spine, about 1" below her shoulders.

In a panic, I called my stylist at home (thankfully I've been going to her since my wedding in '01 so we're close enough I can call her with hairstyle emergencies...which by the way, is something I never thought existed - because what really constitutes a hair emergency? Oh, now I know - a five year old who has hacked her hair up....) She offered to have me come out to her house to fix the problem - except she didn't have any scissors with her - even tried to track down a stylist she'd trust who might be working late who could rectify our problem.

Unfortunately, no stylist was to be found - so instead we agreed I could get some sharp scissors and blunt cut it myself - then take Anna out to see her this weekend so she can even it up.

So, after bath last night, poor Anna had to stand on the stool in the kids bathroom and watch as mommy cut about 6" off her beautiful, long, golden, "Sleeping Beauty" hair.

She still looks beautiful, and truth be told, she needed to get a good haircut anyway - but I didn't want to have to be the one to do it.

I'll get some pictures up soon - oh another fun evening in the Long house!