I finally caved and got Ava's hair cut this week. I love her curls and have no idea where they came from so I was a little paranoid (read: panic stricken) that they would all be gone afterwards. But those long hairs from her baby days were putting up a fight as I tried to turn her from Diana Ross into Shirley Temple each morning. Finally enough was enough and I took Ava to a fancy salon for the princess treatment, which I justified by saying that it evened out to $5 a year. I guess that means this one will have to last until she's ten. The stylist went easy on her (read: me) and very carefully spiral curled each chunk of hair under the diffuser. The result was beautiful and I actually felt a little teary at how different she looked. I know she's a big girl and most days I am embracing the joy that is four year old Ava. But some days I want to hold a little tighter to this
I did manage to hold it all together and be her cheerleader, not that she needed it as she was able to watch two separate movies in a mini yellow taxi that she drove the entire time. Oh, and there was sparkle spray, lots of sparkle spray. I mean, who needs Mom when there's sparkle spray involved?
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