Last week when my dad was here, I went to a Relief Society dinner. Dad was super sweet to babysit and even put the girls to bed while I was gone. Halfway through the dinner, someone was speaking up front when I got a text from my dad. Thinking it was probably important, I read it, and halfway through reading it, my jaw fell on the floor.
"Are you ok?" my friend Becky whispered.
I mimicked scissors with my fingers. "Lizzy," I mouthed. "Maren."
Honestly, it would have happened no matter who was looking after the girls.
When I told my husband he laughed and laughed.
Poor Maren still has no idea that her hair is so much shorter. She is/was incredibly vain about her long hair, for a 2 year-old. Lizzy said something at breakfast the next day about Maren having short hair now, and Maren screamed at her, "NO! I don't have SHORT HAIR. I have LONG HAIR!"
Oh dear.
Oddly, Lizzy did a pretty good job. I think I even like the new 'do better.
























