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Daughter foils lamemom again

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Posted by on November 19, 2010 at 7:06 pm

The daughter this morning looked like she had a nest in the back of her head. She’s three and I’m never that pulled together so Jenn with bad hair is not surprising or unusual, though my response was.  This morning, for whatever reason, I wanted to comb that hair and make it smooth like all of the little girls in her class of 3-year olds.  Her hair was even clean, so I don’t know what came over me, but I was determined that it look cute. Again, grain of salt here – I’m the head of the lamemoms. Cute at our house doesn’t mean bows or other paraphernalia (in great part because big brother hoards all the hair accessories), it just means not dirty and brushed.

So as surprised as I was with my hair response, imagine what young daughter thought as I lunged at her with my great big round brush? Yes, I went for the brush so I could quickly yank it through the snarls – a comb would never have worked with fine hair like we have. I tried to trick her into pretending she was the dog by brushing her arms and legs first and then I going fastfastfast at the back of her head.

Of course, we know where this is going. My lady screeched angrily, mixing English and Spanish, “Don’t peine me” and as fast as I got the brush through, she took her hands and  (I swear) started back-combing her hair in an attempt to re-snarl it.  Spiteful. But she was winning and I was furious because at that point I was fighting about hair with a 3-year old and suddenly my pettiness had become about power and winning, never successful parenting strategies.

Meanwhile, the husband was howling with laughter as he re-tied his tie for the seventh time to get the length just right and the son was standing in the corner where I had sent him after he SPIT ON THE FLOOR. (Which definitely deserves its own post.) I got a glimpse of myself (my hair was snarly in the back, too) and my coffee was gone and I put the brush down.  Jenn was still howling and could only be appeased by the husband – who thought he was the world’s best dad when he calmed her down in the elevator. His solution? Giving her his bike helmet. So Jenn, sporting snarls and daddy’s grey Giro bike helmet, rode the M104 bus up Broadway to school. She might have looked a little simple, but if she falls down, she’ll be safe.  And nobody can see the snarls under the helmet.

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