It was a bad hair night

Caroline woke up in the middle of the night the other night and when I went in her room to see what was wrong, she was sitting up in bed, crying.

I picked her up and asked, “Sweetie, what’s wrong, why are you crying?”

She said, “Mama, I’m sad. I’m just so sad.”

“Why baby? Why are you sad?”

“Because I don’t like my hair long. I want to go to the beauty shop and get it cut.”

I’d like to say that I have never, myself, cried over my hair in the darkest hours of the night, but that would be a lie.

As I crawled back in bed, P woke up and asked what Caroline was crying about, when I told him, he just shook his head, rolled over and said, “And so it begins.”