Braids

I have always loved getting my hair done.  I've always preferred it up and out of my face, hence my perpetual ponytail or messy bun (if you can even call it that).  Naturally, I thought my girls would feel the same.  But both of them took the same stand as soon as they turned three and could voice their preference: "No more.  I just want it down.  Straight down."  Goodbye piggies.  Goodbye bows and headbands.  The only time I get asked to do their hair is picture day or dances.  Or when I make them endure family pictures.  But that's not an "ask" situation, but a "demand, or else" kind.

I learned to braid my own hair when I was 14.  I spent hours trying the french braid and the dutch braid, finally finding that I love the raised look of the dutch more than the flat look of the french.  But it took time to first learn how on someone else, and then even more time training my mind and fingers to do my own.  I have always loved that I could do it on myself. 

It struck me the other day, as I was doing my hair, that I was Keilie's age when I learned.  She hasn't shown much interest in her hair, until a few weeks ago.  I've noticed subtle changes in her appearance, starting with a simple side braid she's been doing.  She's also been wearing a bit of mascara-- not a big change, but noticeable enough after never really caring about her appearance.    I wondered if she would start trying new braid styles soon, almost daydreaming of teaching her a few tips and tricks from my years and long-ago hours of practice.

All of that went out the widow tonight, though, when she came to me with a simple request, "Mom, will you braid my hair?"  And I thought, "Finally!  My daughter wants me to do her hair 'just because!'" 

Maybe I won't be so forthcoming with my tips and tricks after all.