making the cut

For months I agonized over Rebekah's hair. Yup ... her hair. Should I spare her the impossible-to-navigate-a-comb-through snarls and inevitable spaghetti sauce spatters in her luscious locks by cutting it a few inches? It may seem like an inconsequential thing to some, but I couldn't help thinking that shearing off the ends would traumatize our two-and-a-half-year-old. Or maybe it was selfish thinking; I love the comments I get from other parents at the mall play place about our precious towhead.

In the end, sanity won. Bekah can grow her hair down to her waist when she's shampooing/conditioning/brushing/styling it herself.

We started with the prep: laying down the Big Bird mat to catch the hair, turning on VeggieTales for distracting purposes, pulling out the necessary combs, clips and cape. I caught the final moments of the long hair on digital memory:

It was my first time cutting hair (minus Seth's bi-monthly buzz cut), so I felt some trepidation. Again, I didn't want my little girl traumatized for life because of a bad haircut given by her mother. Seth wanted it cut about three inches shorter than the final product, but I insisted on not taking off a huge chunk just in case I had to make repairs. Much to my relief (and amazement), I think it turned out all right.

Gratefully, Analee was born with a lot less hair than Rebekah, which means that we ought to be able to put off the whole scary-first-haircut thing until our little brunette beauty has hit puberty.