Abby comes to my office on Thursday afternoons. I always let her have her scissors and some scrap paper to cut up into however many little tiny bits she wants. She loves it and it frees me up to get a little bit of actual work done. While I was doing a little data input Abby managed to capture my undivided attention by saying:
"How do you like my new haircut?"
My heart stopped for a moment and in the millisecond it took me to whip my head around I was envisioning months of bad mullet grow out. Indeed there was a small pile of little blond curls on the floor. But she just snipped the ends off a few inches, nowhere near the roots. Thank the Lord. In fact, it curls under and you can't even tell she looks any different. So she still has all of this:
