We had a great weekend visiting my parents while MJ was having a guys' weekend in New Orleans. But on returning home yesterday at bedtime, the kids were happy-tired and giggly. As I walked up the stairs, CC came running to meet me.
"We were giving each other pretend haircuts!" she exclaimed.
"Okay, but why aren't your pajamas on?" I asked, wearily. My goal was to get through bedtime without losing my cool.
I looked into the twins' room, and saw Sweet Pea hiding behind the glider. She was putting handfuls of ... something ... behind the bookshelf. I thought it was her hair bow and elastic, which she loves to hide.
"Give those to me, please," I asked her.
She looked at me for a second. "No."
That stopped me. The kids never say "no" when I ask them to do something (they often don't obey, but they never blatantly refuse). So I moved the bookshelf out of the way, and found:
I am very proud of myself for not turning into Banshee Mom. I was cool and collected in the face of an amputated braid and a large pile of shorn locks. I asked her if she cut her hair, and she said no, CC did it. CC had suspiciously disappeared into her own room.
So. CC and Sweet Pea both went to bed without books. Sweet Pea has to go with me tomorrow to get this "fixed," which will almost certainly result in a pixie cut. She thinks this whole situation is hilarious.
CC said, "It was an accident." As if the scissors somehow made it upstairs, and cut over 6 inches off her sister's head by some mysterious force. She has been warned that if she ever does this again, she will be promptly marched to the salon to receive a pixie cut herself.