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The number one thing you don't want to hear from your child, or anyone else for that matter, after getting that new hair cut.

Josie climbs into my lap, her small hands on both of my shoulders. She pushes up to a stand, one barefoot on each of my thighs, and looks down at the top of my head.

I've just come home from a hair cut that opened with me telling the woman with the scissors. "I don't have a real vision of what I want it to look like when you're done. I want something kind of funky, just not too short or too big. Just do whatever you think will look cool."

Josie sizes up the results, looks her blue eyes right into mine, keeps her mouth a straight line of expressionlessness. "Mom," she says. "Your hair looks funny."

"Oh," I say. "Well, what do you mean by funny? Funny how? Funny like, not good or funny like you LOVE it."

"Ma-awm," she says. "You look like grandma."


Anyone want a three-year-old?