Hair Today.....

Last Sunday was no day of rest in our house. It was a day of anguish, disbelief and resignation.

It all started innocently enough. I had just returned home from the overnight shift and was talking to my wife, who was in bed trying to fight off vertigo. Little did we know something was about to happen to make us both dizzy.

Rachel came into the room, knelt down between us and said something to the extent of "Notice anything different?" At first, I didn't. Then I noticed her bangs were, well, where were they? When she turned around, her braided ponytail had lost some length as well.

"Did you cut your hair?" I asked, my voice sounding alarmed. "What?" shrieked my wife, always proud of her long hair and Rachel's. Rebecca reached for her glasses and joined my alarm.

Rachel's rationale was three-fold. Her bangs were getting in her eyes and she didn't like that. Of course, now they had retreated to monk-length. She explained her hair was getting in the way when she ate. And she didn't want to see Miss Jeannie, our hairdresser, although by snipping her strawberry blonde locks, she had pretty much guaranteed herself a trip to see Miss Jeannie. She thought she could handle it, because "I'm 4 1/2."

To put it mildly, my wife went ballistic. For some time, she had been looking for the scissors which Rachel managed to find. For another, we couldn't find where Rachel went all Samson on herself.

I suggested we check her bathroom. And that is where we found the telltale evidence. A large clump of hair in the trash can and a couple of curly locks on the floor.

Rachel was the 4-year-old version of grounded. Her favorite cartoon shows and videos were placed off-limits. We would not be going out to eat. We put in a call to Miss Jeannie and waited.

I had already talked about how we needed to ratchet up Rachel's discipline. This was just more fuel for the fire. Rachel always says what's on her mind, like many children, but she was starting to go a little heavy on the backtalk, or as we say it in the south, the sass.

The next day, she was behaving a little better, but when I paused to discipline her at one point, she ordered me to "go to your room." That earned her a trip to hers. And when she came back out, she was returned to her bed until I retrieved her.

At some point in the midst of all this, Melinda from the accounting office at the Temple called to inform us that we were now paid in full for Rachel's tuition. I asked Rachel to pick up the phone when it rang. She apparently mistook Melinda for my sister and said, "Hello....I"m going to be good the rest of the day." Melinda and I got a big laugh out of that.

Tuesday morning, Rebecca spent 2 1/2 hours getting the tangles and snags out of Rachel's hair. We then drove to Miss Jeannie's. Our choices were trying to keep it as long as we could or cutting off 10 inches for Locks of Love to be donated to children with Alopecia. Rebecca put the decision on me. The last time I had to make a major hair decision was 15 to 20 years ago. I was a little rusty. Eventually, I decided we'd help people and get it cut short. Plus maybe it would teach Rachel a lesson.

We even discussed putting Rachel's hair in pigtails. Rachel said she had never worn her hair that way. I reminded Miss Jeannie, Rebecca and Rachel that as Jews, I wasn't sure we were allowed to put our hair in pigtails.

Even though she at first said she wanted her hair to stay long, Rachel seems perfectly happy with the new 'do. When you're 4 1/2, as long as everyone is talking about you, everything is cool.

This Happened 48, 48 Hours Ago...

If you've read this blog for a while, you'll note repeated references to our nearby outlet mall, or its more formal name, Discover Mills. It is about ten minutes from our house. The Thai Diner is there. Mommy and daddy crave the coconut chicken soup and Rachel will take rice and/or noodles wherever she can find it.

In addition, Discover Mills has the projection screen that beams images down to the floor. Rachel can step on kernels and see them change into popcorn or fling boomerangs at targets by stepping on them with her feet. A Books-A-Million is nearby, as is one of mommy's favorite bead shops. So everyone is happy. Rachel can stamp or stomp for two hours if the mean big kids don't take over. Mom and dad take turns watching her.

As is the case in most malls, a byproduct is having to listen to mall music. Non-offensive, mellow, dentist office-type mall music. So imagine my surprise as I sat outside the bookstore and heard a song that could take place in a dentist's office, but not usually in a mall.

It was unmistakeable. The Ramones singing I Wanna Be Sedated. Made my day!

I can't wait for the Back to Rock And Roll High School sales!

Cantaloupe

Rachel is in her second session of summer camp. The theme is the "Wild West."

The other day, she and Rebecca were in the Goodwill store, trolling for bargains. Rachel found herself drawn to a stick horse. Since it was only three dollars and a relic of when my wife and I were Rachel's age, Rebecca bought it.

Rachel decided to name her trusty steed "Cantaloupe."

I asked her why she chose that name. "Because I like fruit," she replied.

Oh, of course. How silly of me to ask.

Mmmmmm....Lollipop!

Love To Play Percussion.....

My Favorite Renaissance Fest Kissing Wench

After The Ballet, The Apple Juice

Bouncing Rules!

Fending Off the Paparazzi

Tempermental Artist and Assistant

Cookie Monster and Tempting Sweet

Rachel Quote of the Day

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm NOT giving you attitude!"

Out of the Mouths (A Continuing Series)

Ever since Rachel got her ear tubes during her tonsil surgery, she has become much louder. Apparently, the sudden discovery of ambient sound makes her talk more loudly. On the plus side, she projects well. On the minus side, she projects well.

You see, certain things are meant to be said at a reduced volume. Unfortunately, mommy and daddy cannot always access the mute button in time.

For instance, there was the time Rebecca and Rachel were walking into a mall and noticed a hominid from the genus and species of niveus purgamentum. Okay, so that's approximate language for "white trash", but it sounds so much dignified in Latin. (Could I be the only person in history to look up "white trash" in an English to Latin Internet dictionary? It just may be!)

Anyway, said young woman was smoking a cigarette. My wife and I have always stressed to our impressionable daughter that we have never smoked and we have no plans to do so in the future. We have told her cigarettes are not healthy and we frown upon them even more than watching the same episode of Dragontales for the 52nd time.

Maybe we should have also stressed that pointing isn't very polite either. Imagine Rebecca's chagrin when Rachel points at the woman and enunciates loudly, "That lady is a LOSER! She's smoking!"

Rebecca didn't dare look at the woman. She just took a firm hold of Rachel and urged her to enter the mall at an increased rate of speed.

I wish that was the only example. Alas, it is not.

I have been complaining a lot lately about my hours. I work overnights. I have worked overnight weekend mornings. I sleep when others are awake. I am awake when others are asleep. My circadian rhythm needs tuning.

At summer camp a week or two ago, the teacher asked the children what their fathers do for a living. It wasn't enough for my child to say, "Daddy works at channel 11" and leave it at that. Oh no, not my child. "My daddy works at News one one," Rachel shares. She pauses. "He hates it."

I can't wait for the next one.