My 6-year-old granddaughter, Tilleigh cut her hair last week. Using her child's "safe" scissors, she whacked off several inches on each side of her face.
She wasn't happy with the results. She cried for hours.
Her mother, my daughter Kacee, wasn't happy, either. She was shocked to see her tutu-wearing, curly-haired princess with hacked hair.
"Oh, my gosh, Mom, she's got a mullet," Kacee yelled into the phone when she called to tell me about Tilleigh's handiwork. It was hard to hear her, though, because of Tilleigh's loud crying in the background.
"You've got to finish cutting it when you get home," she said. "She's got a perfect mullet. It's awful."
As soon as I got home, I grabbed a pair of "adult" scissors and headed up to their neighboring house. By now, Tilleigh had calmed down and was prepared for me to finish what she started.
The remaining of her shoulder-length curly red locks would soon be gone.
"Will I still look like Tilleigh?," she asked me as tears rolled down her cheeks.
I got on my knees, looked her in the eyes, and said, "Baby, if you had no hair, you would still be my beautiful Tilleigh."
Ten minutes later, with a cropped Buster Brown hairstyle, Tilleigh was fine, and so were we. She looks cute in her new cropped 'do.
Will she do it again? Doubtful. She didn't like the mullet.