From the moment the pregnancy test turned positive, I wanted to have a daughter. There were so many reasons I wanted a baby girl, not the least of which was styling her hair into pigtails everyday.
It wasn’t until her first birthday that the dream was realized. I combed and sprayed that baby fine hair into two sad little pigtails for her party because we were going to need something to hold that tiara in place.
It took a while to get them to resemble real pigtails.
But then the day came that they actually looked like a real hairstyle.
And from then on, I’d put her hair in pigtails any time she’d sit still long enough for me to get those Goody rubber bands in her hair.
I bought bows in sets of two in every color of the rainbow to ensure that we’d always have perfectly accessorized pigtails.
Because there just isn’t anything cuter than that.
Alas, the day came about a year ago when she started to resist the pigtails. She’d feel me run that comb down the middle of her head and say “NO PIGTAILS TODAY!”
So the singular ponytail became the style of choice, alternated with the occasional braid. I’ve mourned the pigtails because I felt like they were gone before I had a chance to say goodbye. I put a lot of my heart and hairspray into them over the course of four years and they just went away.
Yesterday morning, I went into Caroline’s room armed with a brush and some rubberbands and asked, “How do you want your hair today? A braid? A ponytail?”
Then just to mess with her, I said, “Pigtails?”
She said, “Yes. Pigtails.”
And I fell over.
I have never parted hair and secured it in pigtails faster than I did at that moment because I just knew she’d change her mind. When it was all finished, I looked at her and wanted to cry.
But instead, I just savored the pigtails.
Because it won’t be long before they’re gone for good.