Baby’s Got A Brand New ‘Do

A few years ago, I was a nanny for just about the cutest little girl in the world. This child has spunk. She is sassy and stubborn and deliciously full of sweetness AND spice (and the ‘and’ is the oh so very important part).

It is always interesting to me to listen to adults’ reactions, or to observe their behavior upon encountering and (ahem) “conversing” with children. The words “sweet,” “adorable,” “angel,” “princess,” and “beautiful” always seem to replay like they were rotating around a magical Disney DJ’s turntable….and all is happy songs filled with soothing piccolo trills and melodious harpsichord harmonies…* tra- la- la* (cue cherubic smile and floating on air parents here)…and as I think of this familiar scene and cycle (I can already feel the cavities from sugar shock practically sucking the enamel from my soul…er…teeth)…sweetness overload. Enter the sudden scratch on the vinyl–*EEEEK! * –speed it up and make it funky—get down, get down! And some do…thank God.

Yes, praise be to the children that introduce some sassafras! I applaud your passion-filled, devil-may-care, “deviant” spirits!  Your spontaneity and unpredictable eruptions of emotionally driven exploits make me feel just a little less old and crusty. Passionate little pixies, I am beholden to you for the blessings that you are to this soul—you bring refreshment to a fat and arid world of too much sweetness—I long to drown myself in the waters of your whimsical ways (We, of course, will jump off the deep end…doing a tuck and roll into a cannonball upon entrance, shan’t we?) —I can already see the look on the “dry ones'” doused faces…would the caption read: shock…exasperation…envy?)

This week a child got a new hairdo. The closest way I can possibly describe this “do” (or what her parents might very well call a “don’t”?) is what you might get if Dog the Bounty Hunter miraculously procreated with Billy Ray Cyrus– and they birthed a little girl who apparently would enjoy both a party and business if asked…

This haircut was the impulsive act of my little charge I previously mentioned. Her father just recently posted pictures with the single caption: “No repentance!”….. And there was none! Ha! That little spunky sprite stares straight into the camera and owns it….owns that hideous haircut—so shocking that I cannot look away…I am taken aback….mesmerized…drawn to…the courage. The aliveness I feel when I look at the action she took…snip, snip, snip….cutting away at the ties that bind—the cares and worry of what people might think.. All she knew is that she felt the need for a haircut…it seemed simpler to just do it herself…and she did. Snip, snip, snip…she cut because she could, and because she wanted to…and because she wasn’t afraid.

When I looked at those pictures, two things happened:

First: I promptly scanned and copied them all (in order to add to the plethora of paraphernalia I will most assuredly have the great pleasure of busting out at her wedding reception one day).

Second: I realized that little Liana had reminded me of a beautiful truth this day:
This was not just a haircut, this was a declaration of independence (from expectations), a peace treaty (with herself), and a pint-sized middle finger raised (to whoever looked at her funny that day–obviously not appreciating the brilliant artwork now adorning her crown–oh yeah).

You go, little girl!