I'm kinda mad at this kid right now:
I left her and Penelope in the playroom for a minute while I stirred the rice in the kitchen. When I returned, I found this:
Beatrice chopped off Penelope's ponytail, cut bangs, and added some face-framing layers to her do. I didn't notice the hair cutting when I walked into the room. I didn't even realize they had the safety scissors (they were coloring when I left the room). I knew something was up though when Beatrice ran to hide behind the couch screaming "SORRY MOMMY!" I found wispy, blonde hair piled all over the floor and then I knew what had transpired in the 3 - 5 minutes I left them alone.
The next few moments were a blur. I didn't know how to react so I sent Beatrice to her room while I figured it out. I was really mad that she broke our scissors rule (only cut paper at the dining room table with mommy present), I was sad about missing my baby's first haircut, and I was angry that her beautiful hair was butchered. I was also trying to stifle my laughter because this is such a classic kid move: big sister whacks little sister's hair. Someday we'll all laugh at this, right?
After I picked up all the hair, I started crying. My baby's hair looks so awful, it is chopped throughout in weird, blunt angles. I'm sad she won't have the opportunity to grow her hair long like Beatrice's. I'm sad I won't be able to braid it and style it like usual. Penelope hugged me and said, "Sissy cut my hair. I'm beautiful!"
Yes baby, even with jacked up hair, you're still beautiful.
I feel really dumb for reacting to the haircut with so much emotion, it's just hair after all. It'll grow back. But I'm still sad. My sister in law summed it up best when she texted her condolences along with this nugget of truth: it can be heartbreaking when our kids make bad decisions. I guess that's the root of my feelings; I'm sad that Beatrice made a bad decision and ruined her sister's hair. I'm sad that she chose to disobey the scissors rule. I'm sad that I missed out on baby's first haircut. And I'm sad that someone in my family has a mullet, even if it is a beautiful blonde mullet.
Beatrice received a consequence for cutting something other than paper and lost all cutting privileges for a long, long time. She was really upset, but mostly she was really sad that I was sad. I let her see me cry and we talked about how making choices can affect others.
I don't know what we'll do with Penelope's hair. Part of me wants to ignore the chopped bits and let it continue to grow, but a bob would be really cute too. I'm still sad, although the shock of the haircut has worn off. Maybe I'll even laugh about it soon. And I have forgiven Beatrice for her poor choice. Who knows, maybe this is the beginning of her career as a stylist.
Too bad she can't touch scissors again until she's 18.