The Banana Does My Hair

It was evening.  Squirmy was fussy, and I was standing next to the high chair feeding him.  The Banana tromped in with a fine toothed comb and declared that she was going to do my hair for me.  She crawled up on a chair and stood on the seat and proceeded to comb my hair.  May I just mention that the comb was a very, very fine toothed comb.  My hair is thin and straight, and generally quite combable, but this comb was finding a few snarls.  “Now Mama,” said The Banana, “You just need to stand here very still.  There will be no whining, and no crying and certainly no screaming.  If you need to, you can just say ‘OUCH’ very calmly and pleasantly.”

So, that’s what I tried very hard to do.  (For the record, I actually do not tell her that she cannot whine and cry when I comb her hair, rarely do we have trouble getting through it if it’s wet, and she is very good about the whole affair.  The statement is something she thought of entirely on her own).