Of hairbrushing and good fortune...

My daughter has recently begun to HATE having her hair brushed. She squeals like I'm trying to kill her....cries and flails and makes such a commotion that I think the neighbors just might call CFS to check up on me. (you know it's bad when you have to shut the window, just in case).

I try to be careful and gentle, I swear! Hold the hair so it doesn't pull from the scalp, slowly pic the tangles out instead of brushing.... but she's having none of it! And I suppose it only makes sense.... the hair gets longer, the tangles get nastier and really, it's just a good 'ol dose of karma coming back to bite me in the butt.

I used to hate getting my hair brushed.

Like my daughter does now, I used to squeal and moan and wail when my mother would try to tame the rat's nest that was my hair. I would duck and dodge and basically make my mother's life miserable in the mornings in her efforts to keep me presentable (much as my daughter is now doing to me).

But as it turns out, my desire to escape the brush led to good fortune for my mother and I...

Really she should thank me for being so difficult. Practically owes me as a matter of fact ;)

You see, it is because I hated having my hair brushed so much that she is married to my Step-Dad. And he's a really great man - so I guess she owes me big time.

I was 5 when we were living in our town house complex, just her and I. There was a pool in the centre of the grounds. I loved swimming and couldn't wait to get to the pool. It was on a weekend, it was morning and I already had my bathing suit on - ready to go, when she decided I had to have my hair brushed.

Noooooooo .... anything but the hairbrush!!

I ducked and she tried to corner me; I dodged and she tried to block my path.... but one more manoeuvre and I was past her! Out the door and making a full tilt, bee line towards the pool. She was hot on my heels, hairbrush still in hand, but I had enough of a head start....

I made it to the pool and jumped in! Then promptly swam to the other side to get away from her. It was there that I saw him. I recognized him from the complex and thought he was the nice man who'd given me a dime on the Halloween prior because he was just moving in and didn't have any candy. (they've told me many times since that I was mistaken - he wasn't even there on Halloween. But I didn't know any different at the time).

He was reading a book and completely oblivious to our drama. But he did put down his book when I plopped my wet self down beside him and said 'Hi!' ....and it was then that my mother finally caught up to me - and had to offer an apology to the nice man with the book that I found by the pool. (yeah, that's right - I found him!)

In fact, she must've offered a little small talk too because a few days later he moved in with us.

(Ok, Ok.... I'm sure it didn't happen quite that fast... but you know those 5 year old memories - they tend to have *some* holes... like just little snippets of here and there persist ;)

They got married when I was six and are beautiful together to this day. I admire their marriage.

Come to think of it, my half-brothers owe me pretty big time too ;)

But back to the point (if there is ever a point) to my long evening ramble: My antics, though trying to my mother at the time, were well worth the effort in the end.

So what I want to know, as I try to battle my daughter's tangles through her limp noodle impression or her next best attempt at how a two year old can impersonate a tornado, is: What will my reward be?

I'm not looking for a new man, right now at least...... (just kidding, hun), but there has to be some light at the end of this tunnel. 'Cuz this is just way too much work for nothing but a few pigtails (cute as I think they are).