Hairy Daughter & the Sore-sir's Moan
2004-07-21, 10:37 p.m.

So....my sister & niece were going to my mom's tonight to get haircuts. I asked if she would take Amanda with her - she's in dire need of a haircut. Not too long after they left I got the expected phone call. Amanda wanted her hair cut to her chin. I knew the call was coming - she always wants my mom to cut her hair short. But my mom makes her call us (ok, Alan) to get permission for anything other than a trim. Alan's a freak about that stuff - a total ass, actually. My opinion is, it's her hair. If she wants it short who cares? There are so few things a child actually has control over, you know?

So I, of course, said no problem, and then hand Alan the phone. He makes the usual grumbling noises, hems & haws, and then asks to talk to my mom. I hear him tell her, "Well, no offense, but that usually comes out looking like a little Dutch boy, and I just don't like that. Can you do a pixie cut?" WHAT THE HELL? Did I just hear what I thought? So I listen closer: "Well, yeah, like a pixie, but with the ends flipping up? That would look good." Ok, now I get it. The man has obviously lost his frickin' mind. Either that, or he's finally getting w/ the program, and there's no chance of THAT happening.

So 'bout two hours later my sis pulls up & out just Amanda w/ her newly shorn locks. She sashays over to me & throws her arms out, like, "Check ME out." She looks, well, just like a pixie. It takes me about 2.03 seconds of adjustment time, then I just beam at her. "Cute, Amanda. It's totally you." She toothy grins at me and runs to her dad. I can tell all the way across the yard that something popped inside his head, like an aneurism or something. I wait for the facial tics to start, but he gets it together and almost smiles. It wasn't easy, I know. Amanda runs into the house to do the usual girly poses and exaggerated facial expressions into the mirror. I take a deep breath & walk over to him. I don't really WANT to, mind you, because I'm gonna hear it for sure, but I suppose it's like a band-aid, best to get it over in one quick rip.

I decided to make the first move. "I know you don't like it, but before you say something you'll regret later, SHE loves it." "I'm not going to say anything," he says through gritted teeth, "I'm just glad my son finally made it home." Ok, now I'm going inside before I hit someone I may regret later. So I fume to the door and into the house, where Amanda has just thanked (the mirror) Orlando Bloom for the compliment on her new hairdo. "Hey mom! I look like Peter Pan!" Yikes. "Oh, hey baby, cute, but do me a favor? Don't tell your dad that, ok?" Sheesh. We wash Amanda's hair and I blow dry it. Then, I get out my straightening iron and straighten it, figuring if it looks a little longer maybe Alan will shut up and not make me want to hurt him. She continues preening in the mirror while I work on her hair, making kissy faces, and winking at herself (gotta love little girls). I have to say, this cut is really growing on me. It really suits her. It's cute. It's quirky. What can I say, it's Amanda. If only her idiot father would come out of his idiot man stupor and see that.

Hair done, she brushes her teeth and puts on a nightgown that matches her hair (?) and goes to kiss her dad good-night. I follow in case I have to do damage control. She kisses him, says good-night and then turns to go to bed. Then she stops, turns around and says, "Do you like my hair, Daddy?" Oh criminy. "Yeah, I do." Phew! Dodged that one. "Really?" "Yep, really." I move a little ways away, just in case of lightning. "Ok, daddy, 'night!" And off she jaunts. I make the stupid mistake of staying behind. "Way to be a man and not say something stupid, dumbass." Well, I didn't really say that. I don't really remember what I said, because all my thoughts at the time where forever erased from my memory by what Alan said. "She looks like Peter Pan."

Yeah, so I hear.

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