So, my friend Stephanie came over on Labor Day and braided the kids' hair in honor of their first day of school… The kids were pretty well-behaved for her, I felt a little guilty about not being able to do it myself, but I am worthless with my own hair, and this holds for my attempts at others' as well. (Note: On my recent birthday, after having been on this planet for at least twenty-five years, I put my hair into an up-do without assistance for the first time ever. It was passable.) So, despite having actually purchased a book about hair braiding a year ago, and reading it twice, I still haven't worked out how to French-braid, or cornrow, or anything.
But the kids had braids, which held up very well to a pretty rough-and-tumble picnic yesterday, and to their very wild sleeping (they started out the night with head-wraps, but woke up bareheaded), and to their first day of school. Even to their hospital visit with their brand-new-just-born-yesterday Cousin Lola! (Dillon was in love – he adores all babies and she was the tiniest he's ever seen, not to mention super-special because she's Uncle Nic and Aunt Beth's daughter.)
But tonight, Dillon's braids were looking pretty raggedy, so I took them out, and he had a beautiful lion-mane of crimped, 80's hair. (Think the Bangles in the 'Walk Like An Egyptian" era.) And Rose wanted her braids out if D's braids came out, but I was in the shower when Charles took them out, I asked how she looked, and he said, "Like Christopher Lloyd if he was a three-year-old black girl."
All in all, though, everyone's first day of school went quite well, though D told me, "First grade is really hard work."