She sits there wailing, screaming bloody murder while I simply attempt to wash her hair. I realize I'm strong but I make a point to use almost zero pressure. And I know it's not from soap running into her eyes - I'd sympathize with that familiar burn of youth. She just hates it. The very act of it. I don't know if it's due to her thin, blonde hair. Maybe she has a sensitive scalp. But she never complains of pain. Just the act.
Is this normal???
Her big sister, Maya, who inherited her follicles from me and has thick, brown, shampoo sucking locks doesn't mind it a bit. I'm the one crying because it takes so long to rinse her hair out. It holds onto the suds like there's a shortage.
The only way I can get the little one to stop crying while I wash her hair is to agree to let them wash mine next. So once both of them are clean, and after I drain most of the dirt soup they're soaking in out of the tub, I refill it with fresh water and lean in up to my elbows, head hung over the tub.
It thrills them to no end. Oddly enough, while Macy always claims to want to follow in her mother's footsteps and be hairstylist (Maya often claims she wants to be a unicorn - that child is all mine) it is the older one who leads my beautification ritual. I get my hair washed and conditioned no less than three times. Sure, it's a waste of shampoo, but it makes them happy, and quite frankly my wife gets it at cost.
Then comes the styling, for which I'm not allowed to dry my hair first. That's all part of the package apparently. So I sit on one of their little beds while my hair is brushed back and forth, sideways, then back again. Ultimately I end up looking like a drowned rat, but sometimes I get a bow. #dadlife
I love this so much...what does Sean think of your new hairdos? You are a great dad!
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