Emma’s hair saga continues. Last night a friend of mine came over
to do something to attempt to do something with Emma’s hair.
She was gentle and sweet and kind with Emma and knew all the tricks. She put vaseline around the hairline and had Emma help – all in front of a mirror. Little Miss Em was in her ’emmament’ as she stared at her reflection hearing how cute/pretty/gorgeous/beautiful she is.
Emma was happy to have the relaxer put on. She was happy when Niki massaged it in (only a little) and was also unfazed by having it washed out. She was content having the detangler put on but when the (rather expensive) comb came out Emma ran and hid. And screamed and cried. And there was no one near her.
As much as we begged and pleaded and bribed, Emma wouldn’t let us brush, comb, condition or tie it back.
This morning when she left for school she looked like my favourite treasure troll from the 80’s…
Niki, being black, assured me that if it’s done properly it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as our little sprogs would have us believe so the new plan is to take Emma to Niki’s house where Niki and her 16 year old daughter will
do her attempt to do her hair. I’ll leave her there. I trust Niki implicitly so I know they won’t hurt her and if she screams and cries and hollers and performs I won’t be there to witness it.
You know that saying “if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it does it make a sound”. Well, I’m adapting it a little “if a child screams while she’s having her hair done and you’re not there to hear it does she actually scream”.