Last Friday, I was out running a few errands, and on my way home, I got a call from Tad.

“Hey… I’m driving. Is this an emergency?” I answered.
“Um. (pause) Kinda.” (another pause)
“What happened?”
“Well… Vera cut CC’s hair.”
“What?? How bad is it?”
“Uh… she cut a bunch off in the back. I wanted you to know before you came home and saw it.”

We continued the conversation, with me trying to understand how Vera could have cut off my sweet little CC’s ringlets!

I arrived home ten minutes later to assess the damage.

Cordelia, still cute as a button, had no more ringlets. The ringlets we all admired so much… just gone.

She said Vera wanted to cut her hair like Grammy’s, and that she told her “no.” All those curls… just gone.

I came into the kitchen where Jude was finishing his dinner, and I was shocked to see his head.  Yep… all of his curls were gone too.

“Tad! She cut Jude’s hair too!” I shrieked.
“What? Really?”

After several minutes of convincing and feeling Jude’s scalped head, Tad finally agreed with me.

My baby had his first haircut at 16 months at the hand of his 4-year-old sister.

I walked into the girls’ room to talk to Vera.

Curls littered the path from the door to where Vera was sitting.  The fact that they were strewn throughout the room hinted at a struggle.

Vera was balled up in the corner on the rocking chair.  She lifted up her head when I said her name.

And then I saw her hair.

She had given herself some lovely side-swept bangs as well.

(Tad also hadn’t noticed her hair.)

We talked a lot about scissors and safety and kindness and obedience.

I knew this would probably happen at some point in my parenting career, but it still did not prepare me for it!

But when I look at Jude’s hair and feel the sections that are close to “buzzed,” I realize that it could have been worse. Much worse.