Leila announced she wanted a hair cut yesterday. It’s down below her shoulders now, for the first time ever. We’ve played with pig tails and braids and clips and ponytails all this summer.
I want it up to….. Here! she told me, holding her hands to her ears. Let’s do it tomorrow!
That’s why I love her, you know. Because who knows how long she’s been thinking about this and if I had suggested she would have dug her heels into the ground and refused but once she’s ready, man, she’s ready.
We sat last night and stuck the labels on her sneakers, lunch box, back pack. She put them all into her school bag, frowned while deep in thought and then asked for an extra pair of panties to stick in the secret pocket just in case.
Twelve days. Twelve days until school starts.
There’s nothing left to do besides call the bus and find out where the bus stop is. There’s nothing left to do but enjoy the last days of summer, to enjoy my girl. But oh man. Everything is so… perfect and fleeting and wonderful and scary.
And this afternoon, we’re going to get six inches cut off my girl’s hair.