I know one day Maya will tell her friends what she hates about her mom the most – how I love to ruthlessly pull her hair.
I am not going to lie. Yes, I pull her hair. ALL THE TIME. Because she doesn’t like to have her long hair tied up. Every time when a strand of hair gets caught in her food, I just can’t help but have to clear out that messy hair tangles, and she will be all AHHH! DON”T PULL MY HAIR MOM! We go through this on an hourly basis.
Thanks to one of her loving teachers at preschool who decided to do a French braid for all the girls one afternoon after nap. And you know what, the next morning she asked me to braid her hair. Like to TOUCH HER HAIR. Like to do something to it other than LEAVE IT HANGING IN HER FACE. And I got to play with it. And she didn’t scream or complain or turn around and punch me in the face.
From the moment I found out I was giving birth to a girl. THIS. This touching-her-hair-in-the-morning scenario is what came to mind.