Elle got a haircut

The title pretty much says it all.

Last week Elle was playing with scissors and she decided to cut a couple of stands of her hair. I took this as a subtle clue that she wanted to get a haircut. Well, that and the fact that she's been asking for one for at least six months now. Yesterday I finally gave in and took her for her second haircut ever. (That's right, she's four and a half and I'd only had her hair cut once before.)

We got one last picture of her before the haircut.

See the People magazine on the counter in front of Elle? It had a picture on it that made me laugh so hard I nearly collapsed a lung. Seriously. My chest has not stopped hurting since I saw it.

The bandanna! It kills me! For some reason!

Anyway, back to the haircut. I didn't like watching it. With each snip more and more golden red curls fell to the floor. I was thinking about how that was her baby hair, the hair she was born with. Why was I letting someone cut it? Clearly I was not ready for this and should have put the haircut off until Elle was a little older. Forty-seven perhaps.

But then it was done.

Now Elle looks like she's about nine years old. All her baby curls are gone. Boo hoo!

But it's not all bad news. We're donating Elle's hair to Matter of Trust. Soon those gorgeous curls will be soaking up oil in the Gulf. Here's an artist rendition of how a mat made with Elle's hair might look.

What a crappy picture. I can't believe I paid someone $300 for that.

Anyway, to sum up: Elle's haircut is cute but it makes me sad that her long hair is gone; I'm glad Elle's hair will soon be helping save the planet; even on the brink of death Bret Michaels somehow manages to look like a tool.

One year ago today I was getting ready for an embryo transfer.
Three years ago I hated the internet.
Five years ago I was 17 weeks pregnant with Elle.