Anna’s New Profession

Last Saturday, Anna decided what she wanted to be when she grew up. I was at the grocery store when she decided that, so part of this story is hearsay, and you’ll have to ask Julie about its validity.

She elected to become a hairdresser, and Julie gave her blessing. She cut the hair of one of her stuffed animals, and then Alden’s hair (with Julie’s help), and then as an act of true devotion to the art, she decided to cut her own hair. Julie says that she warned her that she might end up with a boy haircut, but that Anna was OK with that, and went in the bathroom with a pair of scissors and a comb, and started hacking.

When I got home from the store, Anna was locked in the bathroom, and wouldn’t let anybody look at her. And with good reason, I suppose. She eventually let me in after I promised not to laugh, and that was one of the hardest promises I’ve ever had to keep. I’ve never seen anybody whose hair was cut by a lawnmower, but I can only imagine that a lawnmower would have done a better job.

I offered to help her fix her hair, and she accepted, and since I had only slightly more training than Anna, we spent the next 45 minutes trimming and fixing and layering. It was definitely not the best haircut ever, but we did manage to disguise a lot of the damage; Anna even said that she liked it when we were done.

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As Julie and I talked about that experience last week, we both admitted our surprise that it took her a little more than six years to finally cut her own hair. Several of our friends have told us stories about their little girls getting hold of the scissors at age three or four, and cutting off a pigtail, or some other strange thing. (Maybe that was Julie and her sisters….) In a way, I’m glad she decided to wait, because now she’ll be able to remember the experience; if she had done this when she was two, she’d only have the pictures.

Kids and Cleanliness

Does the state of one’s home really dictate whether kids should play together? Do moms truly only let their kids play with kids whose houses are clean and pristine?

Here’s some background: While we were driving home from church, James asked if he could invite a friend over to play today. I was getting ready to respond that, yes, he could, when Julie said that, no, he could not. I asked he why that was, and she said something about “girlie reasons,” and that I wouldn’t understand. Hmm…

When we got home, the kids went inside, and I tried (stupidly or ignorantly or both) to understand a little bit about what was going on. Julie explained to me that because our house is in a state of disarray, that a friend might be able to come and play today, but that he wouldn’t be permitted to come back if the mom heard about how “dirty” and “icky” the house was. She cited to me an example of a girl who lived in the same neighborhood as a niece who came to play twice, but never returned, supposedly because the house was chaotic.

I don’t understand. I used to play with friends whose houses were at least 20 times messier and 50 times smellier than our house is right now, and some of them were my best friends. I’m certain that my mom knew how these people lived, because they were all fairly good friends.

So, dear readers, please offer your advice to this Clark in Wyoming. Have you, either as a mother or a kid or something in between, ever stopped playing with a friend or avoided having your friend go over to a friend’s house because it was dirty? Comments are open.