A few hours ago, I would have written this:
Last night after Ben checked on the kids, he walked through the bathroom and found curved clippings of brown hair all over the floor. Needless to say that's not usually how I, one of the two brown haired people in the family, leave the bathroom. I tried to feel Eden's hair in the dark and found a few short pieces, but nothing drastic, and there hadn't been too much hair on the floor, so I went to bed without much thought -- most kids try it once, right? and I've always known Eden would be one of those kids. This morning, I saw that the hair on half her head was cut to the jaw bone, some strands a little shorter, though the very front pieces were still up in a rubber band. Perhaps not horrible, just a gap in the curtain of her hair?
She, who rarely lets her regret show, told us later in the day that she likes having short hair on one side and long on the other. And that she does not want it all short because then she can't have braids. And she loves braids. So all day I entertained keeping the gap.
Them came tonight, Eden's Garden:
Despite Silas's early rising and the number of miles the kids trudged over the mountain today, Silas and Eden are jet-lagged and despite exhaustion, had a hard time calming down tonight (much like their mother who is alone on the couch in a dark living room at this very moment). After tucking them in, we could hear Eden's animated voice bouncing behind the door and not long after heard footsteps which sounded like running between our room and theirs. But we were reading happily and knew they'd fall asleep eventually. The sounds continued in a somewhat inexplicable way -- were they jumping? stomping? still running? We ignored it. Then at one point, my mom commented on the fact that there wasn't noise anymore, hadn't been for a while, except hushed murmuring -- dangerous. So we voted for Pops to go up and sternly shoo them to bed. He walked into their room,
Where is everyone?
Then he tried the bathroom door. Locked. We listened to him walk to the opposite bathroom door. Also Locked. He knocked. And (with prompting) knocked harder. The sound of scurrying from the hidden people. I walked up and arrived at the other door just as Silas opened it. Nothing registered.
What are you doing?
Silas's big guilty eyes looked at my face, We're cutting our hair.
I saw it as the words left his mouth -- Eden's hair was now up to the jaw bone on both sides (minus the pony tail still on top) with several pieces almost to the top of her ear. And Silas's hair -- my favorite right now, coarse-soft and bleached nearly white from the sun -- was cut to the skin right on top. I just stood there looking back and forth and a laugh blasted out of my mouth as I turned to my dad. But I knew that wouldn't do, so as it was leaving my mouth, I also said, this is NOT funny. Very effective.
But Mom! It isn't my fault, Eden told me to do it.
(Several conversations followed up this statement).
Eden, tomorrow we're going to have to cut your hair.
I don't want my hair cut!!!
But you cut it.
I want it long.
But you cut it short. Yes, I stopped there. The reasoning was getting us no where.
As they finally climbed into bed sheepishly, a little itchy from hair, Ben rifled through the bathroom for the scissors.
Where are the scissors?
They're behind the sink.
Where? I don't see them.
Behind the sink. On the floor.
I'm pretty sure an angel with a flaming sword will be guarding the bathroom doors tomorrow night.
(at least they put a lot of it in the trashcan)