This weekend, we decided it was time for Ellie to have a smart new haircut. I say that a little like we planned it... but that's not really how it happened.
It was time for a little trim, and that was our intention when we stopped at our favorite little spot on Saturday morning. But when Ellie hopped into the chair and we asked her (jokingly) if she wanted to cut off her pony tail, she said, "Sure."
"Sure..." With little time to rethink the decision, off went the pony tail. The treasure was handed to me for safe keeping. I have the blondish bundle safely tucked into my hope chest... I can't part with it; not yet... who knows, perhaps years from now I'll wonder why I felt so attached... most likely I won't.
I think the reason I never planned for this hair cut is because I would over-think it. I would get sentimental... I would think about this last part of my little girl that remained from when she was a baby... and I'd find a reason not to do it. All the better to put the decision into the three-year-old's hand and let the sharp scissors do the rest.