It’s Not Easy Being Rapunzel
Baguette has long been obsessed with my hair. She plays with it, pulls on it, hangs from it. At the salon, I have to ask my hairstylist to rinse out as much of the color as humanly possible–because Baguette chews on my hair.
I thought, “Maybe if I buy her a doll, she can use its hair instead.” So I went to Toys R Us (which gives me the same sensory-overload migraine that I get at IKEA) and bought her the doll with the longest hair I could find.
She barely acknowledges that doll.
She loves Elmo, so her grandpa bought her an Elmo doll. She didn’t care. I bought her Ernie and Bert, and she didn’t care. She’ll point at them, name them, and move them out of her way.
She has a slight affection for her blanket, which she likes to take in the car on the way to day care.
But what she really wants is my hair. Apparently that’s her lovey, and there is no substitute.
Recently she discovered the comb. We’ve been using it on her hair, of course, but she learned to say the word. When we get home at the end of the day, she wants me to sit down so that she can stand behind me and comb my hair. She takes the comb to bed. Her first utterance this morning was “Comb.”
I want to cut my hair short, but I’m going to wait. Right now it would be too traumatic. But not for me. For Baguette.
Photo by Brett Jordan, via Flickr.