My two year old daughter often runs around looking rather…. shaggy.
You see, I refuse to cut her hair. It is still the perfect baby fine texture you just want to trace with your fingertips.
I cried when I cut my son’s. I did it as little as possible until about a week before Lil Diva was born.
Now his hair is coarse, no trace of the baby soft.
I vowed if I ever had a girl, I would not cut her hair unless either she or I demanded it.
Naturally, Lil Diva’s hair has so far been more fine and not near as thick as her brother’s, so until she was about 18 months old, she really didn’t need a haircut.
Because it was so thin, I never attempted any sort of style. Getting three strands of baby hair into a hair clip is no easy feat for a girl who won’t stop moving.
And she takes it out three seconds later.
Now she has just enough hair I could sort of do something with it if I tried.
“You have to style her hair young, or she won’t let you do it when she’s older,” another mother told me.
Taking her words to heart, I bought some baby rubber bands to attempt pulling Lil Diva’s hair out of her face – because if it isn’t for babies, it just slides right out of her silky hair.
“Do you want me to make your hair pretty?” I asked her one evening.
“Yeah,” she said, plopping in front of me.
This will be easy, I thought.
Was I wrong.
I attempted pigtails – Flintstones style – because she still doesn’t have enough hair for any other arrangement.
I would pull up the hair on one side, and while working on the other, she’d try to immediately pull the finished side out.
The result was something horribly uneven as either side sat in various states of trying to be pulled loose.
If you look closely, in almost every shot where her hand isn’t in her hair, my hand has a guest appearance.
These shots encompass several “stylings” because each style only lasted as long as I could hold her hand to keep her from pulling it out.
“I want to do it!” my son said.
I shrugged and said what the hell.
After all, she loves to mimic what her brother does. Maybe if he had his hair styled, she would leave hers in.
And with that, the Chaos Kids transformed into the Samurai Siblings.
I patted myself for my brilliance.
For thirty seconds.
Then I resumed my constant, “Don’t touch your hair, Lil Diva…” as her hands crept back to her head.
So what did I learn?
I’d be better off having my son with long hair and my daughter with the shaved head.
Because he’ll at least wear a style for five full minutes.
Also? My kids can totally rock the Samurai look.
Any tips and tricks out there for teaching your two year old to leave her hair styled?