Bob

We've never done much to trim the back of Abbie's hair, and it's several inches of matted mess. Abbie won't brush it, and she fights with all her strength if we brush it, so we usually let it go until birds try nesting in her hair. At that point we hold her down and brush her mercilessly until she has pretty smooth hair. A couple days later it's a matted mess again and we restart the cycle.

I've been threatening to cut Abbie's hair for a long time. Mommy won't let me, though, because she's afraid chopping off her hair will traumatize her. As proof, she claims that her parents cut her hair short when she was a child, and she still hasn't forgotten what they did to her. So we let it go, watch it tangle, and brush it out while she screams.

Tonight Abbie walked out of her room carrying a large chunk of hair. I asked her to turn around, and sure enough half of her hair was now shoulder-length. She found a pair of scissors that I foolishly left within her reach, and had gone to work on her hair. She said she did it to be like her brothers, who now have slightly shorter hair than she does. Mommy finished the haircut a little later, and now Abbie has an easy-to-manage hairstyle without us having to traumatize her. Of course a little later she asked if she could put her hair back on, so I don't think she understands the permanence of her actions.