So there I was yesterday, on the phone to Steph, organising my stall for the Daylesford Makers Market this Saturday. And there was Rosie, quietly cutting Seenor's paper hair (a little toilet roll creature that she recently made).
Chat, chat. Chop, chop.
And that was the moment when Rosie decided
to cut her own hair.
Randomly. Wildly.
Erractically. Very unevenly.
I cried. She cried.
When we both calmed down she told me quietly that we can go to a shop and buy some more hair. We cuddled and talked about not EVER cutting her own hair again.
This little incident really rocked my world yesterday. I know there are people and children out there with much bigger problems and it's silly to be upset by
something like this. And I'm not anymore, it was just a bit of a shock.
Looking at her little fluffy head today with it's mad bits of long and short, and her dear eyes that tell me they love me, all I can feel is how dear and sweet and beautiful she is to me.
How her funny ways make her more special,
& how her adventurous nature leads her into all sorts of mischief.
I can tie up her hair and plaster it with hairspray and make it look ok for the VERY IMPORTANT ballet concert in two weeks. Her brother tells me she did a great job and she looks fantastic. Rosie, you are a rascal, a dynamo, a darling, we love you. And that's all that matters xo
