It's warm today-- still cold by my old California standards, but my standards have changed considerably since the first New England chill took hold.
Sweet P is having a good day, too. Turns out part of the reason for her breakdown was that one of her classmates told her she was ugly. Rude-O! Sweet P thought contact lenses might help the situation, but the eye docs have a minimum age requirement of 14 around these parts. To say SP was disappointed by that setback would be-- well, you know.
When SP told me about her classmate's inappropriate remark, I said,
"She probably just thought you knew you were so beautiful that you would just laugh in her face." SP was still not laughing.
I had already booked an appointment for SP to have a hair layering, so we headed down to the salon, and I think it was just what she needed. I have to admit she was a bit wary upon our arrival (as was I the first time I had my hair done there).
"It's in a barn?" she asked.
The salon is not in a barn, but it is in the back of a house, next to a barn.
Once inside, like me, she noticed that the clientele was mostly of the octogenarian variety-- with the exception of one toothless dog.
Fortunately, the hair stylist quickly made it clear that she is SP's personal fairy godmother (FG). First, she oohed and aahed over the very pair of glasses that SP has been cursing for the last week. Next, FG went all wild over SP's natural highlights: "Are you sure these are real?" she kept asking. "They're gorgeous!" Finally, she went on about how SP is such a beauty that no one would ever guess she was only eleven-- which, for once, SP didn't seem to mind at all. And to top it all off, FG gave her one hip hair cut.
We haven't been able to keep her nose out of the mirror since.
Well, that's not exactly true. She did take a break from the looking glass long enough to create a birthday wish list, give away her American Girl dolls (they're not going far; I'm no fool), and ask me to tuck her into bed.