Post By Mad Dad: Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

What are you doing back there?”

Thirty-two years in and it’s shocking just how many times I’ve been asked this by a female. It’s typically something you don’t ever want to hear. The best answer is “I don’t know” and that was my exact response to my six-year-old daughter the other day as I attempted to DO HER HAIR.

There isn’t enough parenting books, sage advice from grandparents or how-to guides that can appropriately prepare a father for having to cultivate some semblance of a hair style on their daughter. It’s English as a second language. It’s Greek and Akkadian wrapped into code used in Native American smoke signals. It’s the voodoo that explains parking garages and the Bermuda Triangle.

I’ve been lucky. Whilst her playmates have sprouted long locks since birth, The Kid’s been more like Charlie Brown for about four or five years of her life. I don’t know if the lack of hair early on is genetic or random, but she’s never had it. And you could drape her pink and all six seasons of Sex in the City on Blu Ray and you’d still have someone call her a boy in the grocery store check out or post office.

The tide has turned and she’s suddenly not only got shoulder length hair, but it’s thick, often unwieldy and curly. I actually really like her hair because it’s unique. The Wife would probably like to lop it off and start over.

Refined beauty like this takes work.

Refined beauty like this takes work.

Still, it being pretty short and so crazy looking, there’s not a ton you can do with The Kid’s hair. For me, there’s nothing I can do with it. In fact, on days I prepare her for venturing outside of the house, I punt.

“Go do something with your hair.”

Sure enough, she goes in and combs it out, puts in a clip or slides on a band and she looks half decent.

My attempt the other day to tame the beast resulted in me being shooed out of the bathroom, licking my wounds, my tail between my legs. Like the one guy in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade who attempts to retrieve the Grail only to have his head roll back detached from his torso from the shadows.

“What are you doing back there?”

It’s as if I took my car to the mechanic and decided to slip under the chassis to take a look with the grease monkey. I didn’t fly too close to the sun; I put my arm elbow-deep in the fire.

Sorry Icarus, you'll need to sit this one out.

Sorry Icarus, you’ll need to sit this one out.

Can’t fool me twice. I know when to kneel in repentance and I know that Jehovah in Latin starts with “I.” But I have no interest in the Grail.

Hair, no more.

 

– Mad Dad

 


Comments

Post By Mad Dad: Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow — 3 Comments

  1. “And you could drape her pink and all six seasons of Sex in the City on Blu Ray and you’d still have someone call her a boy in the grocery store check out or post office.”

    I saw stars I laughed so hard at that.

    This is my struggle as well, Mad Dad.

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