Growing up, I had four brothers and no sisters. I loved my brothers, and we all wrestled and played ball and Legos together. I thought it wasn't fair that I had to wear dresses on Sunday because you can't climb a tree in a dress. Loved my brothers - still do. They are amazing men and wonderful daddies. But I did miss out on playing beauty parlor.
Occasionally, I take out my pent-up beauty parlor passion (which isn't much) on my cute little daughter. Like today when I saw these pictures:
When Angel was a baby, she had such fine and wispy hair that there wasn't much I could do with it. As she got a bit older, I didn't know what to do with it. And then she fell out the window and landed on her head and didn't want anyone to touch her head at all for the longest time. That sounds like a very bad fairy tale. I wish it were, but she's ok now.
Anyway, her hair is longer and she has the patience to sit and let me do it. Mostly, we play Rapunzel and spend a lot of time brushing and brushing and brushing her hair. We braid it at night and try to do something pretty during the day. Most days. Some days. But today we did this, and it looked a little bit better before she ran around like a crazy monkey. But we did it. Way to go, girl!
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