Round. Brush.
A round brush is nothing to mess around with. It takes years to proving yourself before you can be entrusted with the round brush. The round brush is hard core hairstyling.
7 year old + round brush = bad news.
So there I was, standing at the baggage carousal in Chicago's OHare airport when my phone starts ringing. My home number flashes across the screen and I hit decline. There are exactly 8000 people around me. It's loud. It's crowded. It's chaotic. I don't do great with loud, crowded and chaotic and a phone call on top of all that and my brain shuts down.
So I'll call back from the cab. Good plan.
Then I get an ominous text "Call me! HELP!!!" and it is accompanied by this picture:
I call and hear screaming in the background. Loud, long, plaintive wails.
C: "Yeah, it's literally wedged against her head. Maybe I could dump a whole bunch of conditioner on it?"
L: "Maybe."
C: "Or I'll have to cut it out."
It takes my brain a while to process the enormity of this, I having just downed a handful of my evening meds in an effort to "stay on schedule." My mental faculties dulled ever so slightly I start thinking about cutting it out and it seems bad, but...my mind can't quite get around it.
C: "Talk to her, she is hysterical."
L: "Brynn (sobbing) Brynner (sobbing) Brynner bear, I need you to stop crying (sobbing)"
This goes on for some time. Finally, she starts to calm.
B: "I don't like how everyone is laughing at me."
L: "We're not laughing."
B: "Grace is laughing."
L: "Well you do have a brush stuck to your head. You have to admit, that's a little bit funny."
She agrees to help Dad by not crying and I promise to call her back in 10 mins.
L: "Don't cut it out, ok?" I say to my husband.
C: "ok, but it is wedged against her head. I'm talking seriously wedged."
I hang up and call my Mom for ideas. No surprise, she has good ones. While talking to her, I feel panic rise in my chest. I'm imagining a world in which Chad cuts the brush out of Brynn's hair. Was I clear? Did I firmly take a don't cut her hair stance? I panic. I am rather snippy with my parents (in my defense, I'm drugged). I hang up with my mom. I call Chad back.
Everyone on the other end of the phone is laughing. My poor brain has no idea what to make of that.
B: "Mom, Dad got it out and I look totally ridiculous. I mean it is horrible. Really crazy looking."
L: "Put your dad on the phone immediately."
C: (as if reading my mind) "I didn't cut it out."
L: "What did you do?"
C: " I yanked it out. Now we gotta fix this:
Seriously, I've been home for a month. She couldn't have round brushed her hair last night? Of course not.
Chad and I texted on the cab ride to the hotel.
L: Nice work Mr. Mom. You are the bomb! That's a little poem!
C: lol. You are all crazy girls.
L: Sorry!
C: Hair and drama.
L: Mostly hair.
C: Drama is a close second. Yet I wouldn't change a thing.
L: Sucker
In the last pic text of the evening, Chad sent a final note: We are happy now. And this:
Oh, he's just the best daddy. The best.
So now I'm drained. I know I wasn't there, but that actually makes it worse. When you are a problem solver, it's never good to be an entire plan ride away from the problem. I'm drained, drugged and I'm ready to crash. Let's hope everyone on the homestead will stay away from hairbrushes for the next 24 hours. Then I can get home and relieve Chad. Hats people, think hats.
I think we've all learned a valuable lesson tonight and that is a round brush is nothing to sneeze at and the classic - nothing good ever happens in OHare.
7 year old + round brush = bad news.
So there I was, standing at the baggage carousal in Chicago's OHare airport when my phone starts ringing. My home number flashes across the screen and I hit decline. There are exactly 8000 people around me. It's loud. It's crowded. It's chaotic. I don't do great with loud, crowded and chaotic and a phone call on top of all that and my brain shuts down.
So I'll call back from the cab. Good plan.
Then I get an ominous text "Call me! HELP!!!" and it is accompanied by this picture:
 |
| Brynn and brush |
I call and hear screaming in the background. Loud, long, plaintive wails.
C: "Yeah, it's literally wedged against her head. Maybe I could dump a whole bunch of conditioner on it?"
L: "Maybe."
C: "Or I'll have to cut it out."
It takes my brain a while to process the enormity of this, I having just downed a handful of my evening meds in an effort to "stay on schedule." My mental faculties dulled ever so slightly I start thinking about cutting it out and it seems bad, but...my mind can't quite get around it.
C: "Talk to her, she is hysterical."
L: "Brynn (sobbing) Brynner (sobbing) Brynner bear, I need you to stop crying (sobbing)"
This goes on for some time. Finally, she starts to calm.
B: "I don't like how everyone is laughing at me."
L: "We're not laughing."
B: "Grace is laughing."
L: "Well you do have a brush stuck to your head. You have to admit, that's a little bit funny."
She agrees to help Dad by not crying and I promise to call her back in 10 mins.
L: "Don't cut it out, ok?" I say to my husband.
C: "ok, but it is wedged against her head. I'm talking seriously wedged."
I hang up and call my Mom for ideas. No surprise, she has good ones. While talking to her, I feel panic rise in my chest. I'm imagining a world in which Chad cuts the brush out of Brynn's hair. Was I clear? Did I firmly take a don't cut her hair stance? I panic. I am rather snippy with my parents (in my defense, I'm drugged). I hang up with my mom. I call Chad back.
Everyone on the other end of the phone is laughing. My poor brain has no idea what to make of that.
B: "Mom, Dad got it out and I look totally ridiculous. I mean it is horrible. Really crazy looking."
L: "Put your dad on the phone immediately."
C: (as if reading my mind) "I didn't cut it out."
L: "What did you do?"
C: " I yanked it out. Now we gotta fix this:
 |
| Brynn and 'Fro |
Chad and I texted on the cab ride to the hotel.
L: Nice work Mr. Mom. You are the bomb! That's a little poem!
C: lol. You are all crazy girls.
L: Sorry!
C: Hair and drama.
L: Mostly hair.
C: Drama is a close second. Yet I wouldn't change a thing.
L: Sucker
In the last pic text of the evening, Chad sent a final note: We are happy now. And this:
 |
| Brynn and some supremely conditioned hair |
Oh, he's just the best daddy. The best.
So now I'm drained. I know I wasn't there, but that actually makes it worse. When you are a problem solver, it's never good to be an entire plan ride away from the problem. I'm drained, drugged and I'm ready to crash. Let's hope everyone on the homestead will stay away from hairbrushes for the next 24 hours. Then I can get home and relieve Chad. Hats people, think hats.
I think we've all learned a valuable lesson tonight and that is a round brush is nothing to sneeze at and the classic - nothing good ever happens in OHare.
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