Mom went upstairs.
Children were crafting
with safe scissors.
Laundry lured me.
It deterred me.
When I made it back
down the stairs,
I found a house
sprinkled throughout
with tiny bits of yarn.
As I began to scold,
Patrick looked up.
This is what I saw:
He was proud and smiling.
I knew this day would come.
They all do.
I wasn't prepared.
"You cut your hair?!"
"No, Bridget did. Doesn't it look great?"
Yes, Bridget takes after my Memere...The hair dresser.
The hair dresser who always wanted curly hair.
So much that she'd get in trouble at school
in rural Canada, for going to bed
with curlers in her hair.
She didn't care.
After lights out
She kept curling.
She curled her hair and her clients
for many years.
She would just love Bridget's curls.
I scolded .
This is nothing to smile about.
I didn't realize it right away,
but Bridget cut her hair, too.
I can smile now.
Hair grows back.
Scissors are hidden.
Only with constant adult eyes.
and stern warnings.
Paper only.
Yarn only.
No hair.
No clothes.
::Sigh::
