Tuck it In

Tonight the husband discovered that he can tuck my hair into my pants. We both laughed. Such revelations should probably result in an immediate hairdresser appointment, but the thought scares the willies out of me. Every attempt to chop off my locks in the past caused crestfallen feelings and irreverent prayers, "and please bless that MJ will like her new haircut." I don't even want to think about what Atrain would do. It can't be common for a three year old to regularly tell his mommy not to cut her hair. I wonder how easy it would be to fashion a stuffed animal with a braid of human hair for him to hold at night time.

The husband's odd discovery reminded me of a few funny things my mother used to regularly remind me to do. I can still hear her voice telling my five year old self to, "Remember to pull your hair over your shoulder when you are going to the bathroom." I don't really remember ever having a hairy scary bathroom accident when I was little. I wonder if she had any premise other than paranoia for her preoccupation with my placement of my ponytail while on the pot. And then there was the "tuck it in" rule she regularly rehearsed when she dropped me off at gymnastics class. Her worse fear was that I would break my neck while back-hand-springing. So, I was always advised to tuck my pony tail down my shirt before swinging into a round of flips. How funny. Maybe she's the reason I'm still so attached to having long hair. I had to work so hard to keep it clean and safe, I guess I'm still not ready to give it up.