I cut Saralyn’s hair this afternoon. When she has so little hair, it seems silly to cut any of it, but she was looking scraggly. Saralyn has a PRONOUNCED widow’s peak. In fact, it’s giving diction lessons to Tom Brokaw. Strangely, she can grow hair there, and over her ears, but almost nowhere else. I trimmed up the long bits and, uslessly, tugged on the short bits. When I was done, I had a tiny tuft of clippings that was smaller than a cheap cotton ball. A tiny amount of hair. But it makes a great difference.
Tony came home from work just as I was finishing up. I was combing the child’s hair out and Tony scoffed at my need for a comb. Saralyn just looks like a little boy most of the time. She needs some hair. At least I don’t have to hold her down to wrestle out the tangles like I do with Eleanor. Oh well, win some loose some.