She’s long had an obsession with twirling and rubbing and combing her chubby little fingers through hair to fall asleep.
When my hair is in a bun or pulled out of her reach while I nurse her, she pulls at the side of my face, demanding that I take it down so she can weave it around her hands.
When I was away on a trip this summer, Scott laid in bed with her, feeding her a bottle, and she reached up and started twirling his armpit hair. Equal parts adorable and gross.
And, of course, she’s constantly twirling her own hair. I put her down to sleep on her tummy, and her hand immediately goes to the back of her head while the other hand grips her lamby.
All the twirling has finally lead to a bit of a milestone in the life of a girl.
Her first tangle.
It’s a beast. I’m a tiny bit afraid of it. This thing means business.
To be honest, I don’t even know where to start with trying to get it out. A brush is not going to do the trick, and a comb seems like it might rip all the hair out and leave her with a bald spot.
My mom suggested putting her in the tub with a bunch of bath toys and smothering it with conditioner, then trying to work it out while Leyna plays. I think we’ll try that after nap time today.
I’m open to other suggestions if anyone wants to throw them my way. I’m confident this certainly won’t be the only time we deal with this.
I have many memories from my own childhood of struggling with huge nests of tangles at the nape of my neck. It makes me think I must have played really hard as a child because my hair is just as long these days, and I hardly ever have to run a brush through it.
Leyna let me take these pictures, sitting still just long enough to fill in all the appointments in her “new” day planner. I got a new momAgenda planner, and I gave her my old one, which I confess had many blank pages from the time of life in the last year when I just couldn’t make myself face the demands of daily to-dos.
She’s been Little Miss Busy all morning, sitting down at her table with a pen, sighing “Okay” and getting to work. Emulating me, I suppose.
There’s time for work, little girl. Plenty of time for work when you grow up and don’t play hard enough to get tangles anymore.