The TMI Files. Return Of The Barber Of Bogan Central.
A few weeks back, Magilla was bleating about wanting a haircut. She was sick of having her fringe tied back. She told me she would cut her own hair, I told her no.
She then decided that she should cut the Fat Cat's hair, as she'd done in the past. Again, she was told no, and after some cajoling, I got the scissors out of her hands.
Later that evening, we were sitting on the floor together and I made the mistake of looking at the cat.
The whiskers on one side of her face had been trimmed. I kept a straight face and explained to her that cats actually use their whiskers to help them feel things (real technical and specific, I am), which I hope she understood, but suspect she didn't.
What mattered was that last weekend, she took the scissors to herself.
One thing I will give to my daughter - when she decides she's got a problem, she finds a solution and then implements it.
In this case, she just grabbed the hair that was tied back and hacked it off with a pair of scissors she got out of the drawer. These are my shears used for cutting up plaster bandages when I'm taking casts, and they aren't the sharpest in the world.
In this case, I couldn't manage to keep my face straight, so she obviously took in the message that it's okay to cut your hair.
I thought that was the end of it.......
Alas, I was wrong.
Last night, as I was waiting for the babysitter so I could get a bit of work done, it was brought to my attention that she'd been working on her latest surprise for me.
This time, she'd attempted to hack off the ponytail at the back of her head. I had to attempt to tidy up the mess somewhat, but my darling junior primate now has an untidy, lopsided bob a la the luminous Louise Brooks.
Could be worse. She could have a haircut like Julia Roberts in Hook. Now that's what you call a dog's breakfast of a haircut!