Girl one is possessive about her hair. All trips to the hairdresser for a trim of any kind involve very vocal resistance and occasionally foot stomping. Which is why it took me by surprise when Girl one’s chief adorer, asked for a hair cut a few weeks ago.
I want my hair short, said Girl two.
Ok, but why? I asked.
I want to be like you, she said.
I did not think this was possible and so I stalled. A few days. A week. Reminders that one cannot have a pony tail and be like sister if one does not have long hair.
I don’t care. I want it short.
Three weeks later she was still asking . . . I thought you said I was going to get my hair cut. When are we going?
And so we went. And she looks adorable and perfect and more like herself than ever.
Do you like it? I asked.
I love it, she said. I look like my sister looked in the pictures of when she was little.