A FAB New Game: Brush My Hair

After we got home from the library on Sunday, we had just a tiny pocket of time before the feed-bathe-nurse-pajama-and-put-down-the-wee-ones relay, and all Julie wanted to do was sit. She thought up a great new game right there on the spot: Brush My Hair. She asked Joe if he wanted the much coveted brush or comb (the fine tooth comb is his true love; the wide tooth is almost never requested and accepted only on a temporary basis when offered until the fine tooth is free) to brush or comb Mommy's hair and he raced to the bathroom for the implements. Julie sat down, and Joe went to work. It was glorious--the sitting, and styling. It must be said that Joe has always had sort of a gentle touch with hair. When he was still being toted everywhere, he used to put his hand at the nape of Julie's neck and just run his fingers ever so softly through the hair there.*

When Julie had to leave the salon to nurse Clara, Joe asked if he could tend to Ted's hair. He humored Joe, and this put Julie in mind of her maternal grandfather, who had very little hair (Julie is famous among her mother's side of the family for asking him once if it all "blewed" away), but who allowed Julie to comb what there was before heading into the bathroom together, to face the mirror and say, together, "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?" At which point Julie's grandpa would shout, "GRANDPA!" as Julie shouted, "JULIE!" So you see, Dear Readers, Julie feels she has made a discovery. She had never considered that perhaps her grandpa allowed the combing of his comb over because he wanted to sit. He was a very smart man.

*Clara is also fond of hair. She LOVES it, but she loves to YANK it. She's been on a partial nursing strike of late, though we have largely worked through it. One strategy that Julie has employed is to allow Clara to throw her little arm up and wave her hand around in Julie's hair until she decides to close it around a fistful and yank down hard. At least she's nursing.