5986/19006
My daughter came back from nursery with an envelope with a small curl of her hair in it. Apparently she’d decided to cut her own hair (though impressed that they give them scissors sharp enough to scalp themselves). We asked her why she’d done it and she said she wanted to see what it was like to have short hair, like the boys. We told her that she could have her hair at any length she wanted, but that it was best to let a hairdresser do it, rather than having a crack yourself. Also, if she’d didn’t like it then it’d take her a while to grow it back again.
She hadn’t taken off enough to make a difference, but I was still proud of her for trying. It’s good to experiment and no better time to do it than when you’re four. And I had once cut my own hair, when I was about four like my daughter. I bet I’ve told you this before, but I’d watched the Generation Game and they’d had a game where the contestants had to cut hair (I would imagine models wearing wigs) and I went upstairs, found some scissors and cut off my fringe. I remember the reaction when I came downstairs to show my parents - it was the same mixture of laughter and horror that we greeted my daughter with today. Because I was 28 years old. Oh I said I was four before. It still works.
I mean, it’s hilarious when kids cut off their hair, because it’s not permanent, but terrible too because it takes a while to right itself…
I am more concerned about her doing “to be like the boysâ€, because I know she’s better than any of the stupid boys at her nursery already - no offence other village parents, but your kids are shit. We are super concerned not to let her fall into the boys versus girls crap that has kept women down for generations, but equally that competition happens a lot already (is it innate or encouraged by adult approval/disapproval? No idea) and it’s hard to know if her motivation was to look less like a girl or to assert herself and let the boys know she can’t be messed with. She can’t be messed with. I do know that much.
Whatever’s going on, it’s funny and charming and mad and I couldn’t love this messed up, terrible loser, joker, streaker and game-cheat more than I do. But I still will. Tomorrow. And then the next day. And onwards.
I kind of wish she’d come home bald though.
My wife was out all day, so really I should have recorded 20 Snooker podcasts, but I just did one.
Here it is
