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Mommy was unhappy again.

My hair was grazing my shoulders, or at least I was hoping folks thought it did. The clipping was months’ ago and I was hoping my attention to chores as well as to my hair had made a big difference in Mommy’s mood.

It was good for some time, but like all things at home, it turned sad again.

Mommy came home on a Tuesday all infuriated. Work had been a disaster – her boss, her reports, not enough whatever. I didn’t understand exactly what Mommy did, but I knew it had gone badly recently and I was in the cross-hairs (!! ha ha – – see the pun!!).

Brother was at a sport practice and I was getting dinner ready – – setting the stew to warm, the water to boil for noodles, and the plates & utensils on the table.

Mommy came in from work more enraged than ever.

I was scared. She was great mom, but some things were her hot points. With brother, it was attention to his sport paraphernalia – – shirts, shorts, cleats, socks, etc. – – she wanted him to keep them laundered and organized. He did a good job, but his occasional mishap resulted in an intentional late arrival practice, so Mommy knew he’d get some heat.

For me it was all about appearance, and since I only had clothes that Mommy picked for me, the one variable was my treasured hair.

Mommy came in all upset that Tuesday. She was glad to see dinner getting ready. She paced around the kitchen, thru the family room and up thru my room, then brother’s.

She went to her room, changed into at-home clothes, and came down to the kitchen.

“Mary, dear, thank you for getting dinner ready tonight. It looks great.”

She looked around the kitchen, then back at me.

“I think you could use a trim soon. Should I do it or do you want to try it yourself?”

The idea of cutting my own hair was scary, comforting and exciting all at once. I quickly agreed to turn over dinner responsibilities to Mommy and take on the hair cutting challenge for myself.

Mommy said I needed a short cut, and if she thought it not short enough, she’d complete the job for me. “Go upstairs with my shears. If you need, help, call!” Mommy told me in a comforting voice.

I assured her I could and would do it and headed up to the hall bathroom with Mommy’s favorite shears in hand.

I looked in the mirror as I undid the pony tail I had been growing. It really was not to my shoulders, but it was . . . well . . . not, not really long at all . . .

I looked at myself, I thought about Mommy, then I took the scissors, grabbed a big chuck of my hair behind my left ear and SNICK – off it came, and I let it fall to the floor. I did the same on the right side, then around the back – – – it felt so good to slice thru all those locks. I knew I was excited by this, but I couldn’t tell ANYONE . . . could I?

Mommy came up about 10 minutes later. She admired what I’d done so far and asked if I wanted her to do more.

I asked her to trim around my ears, clip the back at bit and tussle the top with some clips.

I knew that was it: I now was a “short girl.”

. . . when can I get my next clip or trim?????

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