Brush with Independence

PinF has very curly hair. Though recent photos don't reflect this I know. A combination of aging and business appropriate styles I suppose have infringed upon my "inner hippy" as of late. Still, I recognize and even embrace that which we all possess--the memory of being who you want to be without anyone else telling you what you should or shouldn't do or be. I was that guy for many years, dancing to my own tune, do what I wanted when I wanted, go wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted. It's what made me well---me.

This said, early morning hair brushing conflicts with Sophia are both a test of my patience and ability to allow her to be who she wants to be. Right now she wants to be a pop star princess, and if you look around, there aren't too many PSP's with short hair. The problem? Her hair is a wild, thick and untamed angry mix of Latin/Irish waves and curls. Beautiful indeed, and something people compliment her on quite often, yet this hair is also like a child itself as it require constant supervision, lest it run amok. At nine years of age Sophia isn't completely independent of her parents' brush. Not to mention the length adds another level of difficulty.

So I imagine you can figure out where this all leads? Well in my world it would lead to the salon, in Sophia's it leads to an apprehensive and uncomfortable morning. Something that has increased with each inch of growth. My little girl is obviously growing up quite literally before me, and now has own opinions on what she wants/needs. While raking through the jungle she calls hair yesterday I started in on my best rendition of what I remember my own father's rant about cutting my hair. Of course as a parent I try to be careful not to do or say the same things that remind me of what I remember of my own childhood....oddly enough this is life's revenge. When you finally realize that your parent's words weren't all wrong but rather quite true as you literally replay an even clip of your own life script.

We were on way to opening her first bank account when this all went down. I told Sophia she WAS getting a trim today no discussion--end of story--period. This didn't stop her under-her-breath protests. So out we went her drying her tears, me feeling like the heavy I never want to be. Her hair, now in some semblance of order, albeit begrudgingly. I tactfully changed subjects and mentioned the new science museum exhibit-panning for gold and jewels---this psyched her up. The bank was a special event, conjuring thoughts of PinF and his dear old dad opening his first passbook savings account at Fidelity Bank in Lansdowne probably circa 1969. This is one of those moments you just know your child will remember for ever.

Next stop? My friend's hair salon. By this time Sophia was hip to the fact that her papi's "democratic dictatorship" would prevail and she had more or less surrendered to negotiating the amount to be cut rather than protesting the fact. I assured her my intent was to have nothing more than the damaged ends cut so as to restore some health and bounce to her hair. I had alerted my hairdresser friend of the delicate nature of the operation and she was prepared. Of course the girly-girl in Sophia had overlooked the indulgences of the hair wash and scalp massage and attention that is adorned when in the chair. Her protests softened and she began to make suggestions. The haircut? Complete success, we were now off to the South Florida Science Museum. Sophie loves museums, most likely due to our many visits to the Franklin Institute a fact she is quick to point out when comparing other museums.

Today's featured fun was panning for actual gold and gems. Really cool stuff for kid, hell PinF even got in on the act. We spent several hours being kids together, then playing miniature golf. The drama of the morning all bu forgotten, my little girl with her perfectly coiffed hair and happy smile. Her money in the bank, her hair clipped, and her day a fun one we made our way to the beach for some boogie boarding. What started out a bit confrontational and ended with smiles and joy, though it offered a perfect reminder of the struggles and battles we will eventually face as she grows into her own person, something I try to balance with my own tolerances and acceptance.

Space is important, as is anyone's right to expression. The ability to make mistakes and do what "you" think is best is also important.. That'll come soon I assure her, for now I'm the boss, though I know what she doesn't; that that shoe will soon change foot.