P, as in pigtails, that is.
Sage's hair is just a flyaway mess of baby fluff. I can't quite bring myself to cut it again. I am willing her hair to be thick and long and am refusing to acknowledge the aforementioned fluff.
I decided that the only way to contain the monster was to put it in pigtails. Her hair seems to want to fly out to the side anyway (kinda like my boobs after having two kids, but that's another post)so I figured I'd help it.
I sat her down, and with my hands, gathered her strands on one side. This was accompanied by SHRIEKING. You'd have thought I was sticking a pencil down her ear canal. The screaming. The crying. My neighbors who live across the street AND up a house heard her.
Of course, this makes the process even more enjoyable. She puts her hands up to stop me from touching her hair. Mind you, I haven't even started with the elastics yet - which just brought the caterwallering to a whole other level.
Finally, I got the piggies in.
And you know what she did? Ran into the bathroom to admire herself! She even posed for a picture (this, apparently, is her "smile for the camera" grin).
I have gotten a bit better at getting them in. The crowning glory was last night, when David took her to pick up dinner. He had rolled her window down, and at a stoplight, a woman in another car rolled down her window to get David's attention.
"I just have to tell you your daughter is SOOO cute!"
That's right, folks. My baby stops traffic!
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