Just when I had found the perfect nickname for scruffy little M…
I caved. M’s hair was too much in her face—getting food in it, and with her latest cold…other stuff as well. But she would tear out any clip attempts. G was on my case to get it cut. So off we went to a kids haircutting place and they worked their magic—quick, easy, and no tears (well, from M. A few perhaps from me)
Bangs (what C calls “little snips”) and a cleaned up back, which actually released the few curls back there.
C a bit disappointed as I had overly prepped her to be the big, brave sister, and therefore she wanted M to sit in her lap for the haircut.