Scene: My bedroom. 7am. My vanity.
I'm braiding my hair in a cool Pinterest-y style. I'm placing in the final pin when L.E. comes in.
"Mommy, why is your hair like that?"
"I'm trying something new. Do you like it?"
"Noooooooo. I like your hair straight like this." She shakes out her perfectly smooth, curls-in-the-right-place, shiny, silky hair.
"Oh sweetie. My hair will never look like yours." I go back to pinning. The whimpering starts. I see in the mirror her lower lip is starting to stick out.
"What's wrong?" I ask her, "You really don't like my hair?"
I take out the pins, one by one. I shake out my frizz.
"Now you look more like you, Mommy!"
So much for trying something different.
I thought little girls were supposed to sit behind their mommies getting ready and commented on how beautiful they are?
Oh well, at least she didn't get into my Stila palette like last time...