"Hey, Mama, look! I'm a really good Hair Scissorer!"
Nine little words you never want to hear coming out of your three-year old's mouth. My immediate thought was: no no no no NO! Please dear Lord, when I turn around, let her be holding a doll in desperate need of a bonnet.
This morning while I was on the phone dealing with the home warranty and air conditioning people (ah, the joys of home ownership), Sophie was quietly entertaining herself.
NOT in her room, playing with her dolls, as she was when I checked on her prior to getting on the phone.
Instead, it seems, she had used a laundry basket as a stool and was in the craft drawer. Discovering the scissors.
Remember that cute, boingy curl she had that would always fall so sweetly in the middle of her forehead? Aww.
All that remains is one lovely winged swoop-bang. Reminiscent of Farrah, circa 1974.