Leaving Dad Unsupervised

Dear Laney,

Today, you stayed home and hung out with Dad while I went into town and ran all of our Christmas errands.

It isn't often that I go anywhere without you, and it didn't take me long to notice that I was talking to myself. I couldn't help it; after a year of narrating every single thing I've done, it's hard to shut it off. On the ride from the bank to Walmart, I talked to an empty car seat about how insane I must be to shop at Walmart on the Sunday before Christmas.

In the freezer section at The Good Food Store, I debated the difference between two kinds of frozen waffles out loud. I know the woman next to me must have been thinking, "She might be a crazy person...but she looks so nice in that scarf, and how crazy could a lady be who shops at Talbots?" If you only knew, sister.

I was home by lunch, and from the moment you got up from your nap, I thought you looked... different. I couldn't put my finger on it. It was right in front of me, but I couldn't quite figure it out. So, at the risk of sounding nuts, I asked your dad, "Does something seem different about Laney to you?"

"Oh. Yeah. I cut her bangs."

That's right, your dad - who has not once in your year of life been interested in cutting your fingernails, took it upon himself to CUT YOUR HAIR. I was only gone four hours, and it never occurred to me to say, "While I'm gone, do me a favor and leave the kitchen shears in the drawer."

So now, you're the next generation in a long line of home-cut bangs*:

Grandma Sue, 1959

Uncle Nate, 1978

Laney, 2010

You look very pretty. Now pardon me while I go beat your daddy with a stick.

Love,

Mom

* Had your dad curled your hair instead, I would have been forced to show a Greatest Hits collection of my Southern side of the family and our Ogilvy home perms. Bullet dodged there.