Some time last winter, I think it was in March, Sydney decided she was ready for a new hairstyle. She'd been looking adorable in a bob for long enough and instead wanted her hair to look just like mine, which meant growing out her bangs.
I tried to talk her out of it. I knew it wasn't a fun process. But she was sure, and quite honestly, I thought it'd be sweet to look back one day and torment, I mean remind her, that she once wanted the same hairstyle as her mom. And so we started letting her go shaggy.
We did our best to keep the bangs off her face. For special occasions, I convinced her to sit still long enough for a french braid. But that didn't happen often.
By early summer, I debated whether to get my hair cut into bangs. It'd be a far easier solution if the goal was to look the same.
But still we let those bangs grow. Ponytail bands worked okay.
As did barrettes and clips...
Hair bands, not so well...
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Eight months later, Sydney's bangs are just about long enough to tuck behind her ears. But this weekend, she'd finally had enough.
"Mom, can I have a bob, again?"
"What?!?" The worst is over, I wanted to scream. All those months of shagginess are about to pay off. But then I remembered one key thing. It had been her idea to grown out her bangs in the first place. So let it be her idea to cut them off.
"Jayce said I looked totally different," she excitedly announced last night after seeing a friend at her brother's hockey practice.
And then a new thought. "I wonder if Mrs. Durand (her first grade teacher) is going to recognize me."
"I'm pretty sure she will," I said. "And I'll bet she likes it."
Reading at bedtime last night, Sydney did an even better job than usual. "Do you suppose it's because you can see better without all that hair in your eyes?" I teased.
Sydney just giggled. There's nothing like eight months of trying something new to make you realize that what you had to begin with wasn't so bad after all.
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