Dear Ava,

Recently we had quite a laugh. I was feeding Anna while you cut paper with your scissors. I looked down for a second--to make some slobbery sound at Anna or to just fall into her gigantically big blue eyes--before you started walking toward me with a look on your face that quizzically said, "the oddest thing just happened to me."

Then, you opened your mouth and out came this: "Mommy, it didn't even hurt when I cut my hair!?" Like the big deal was that cutting your hair "didn't hurt" (which is a big deal) and not at all that YOU CUT YOUR HAIR.

But if you really didn't know it was a big deal while you were doing it then you knew once you saw the look on my face, which was probably a cross between what I look like in the morning with about your age in hours of sleep and what I look like when I hear (before I see) that you cut your hair. So you started crying and I started...laughing. I started laughing and hugged you to pieces (no pun intended). I guess because, well, you were okay--no harm done--and you actually did a pretty darn good job of it. Here I'm paying {way too much} for you to get your hair cut professionally and all I need to do is give you a pair of rubber gripped, dull bladed scissors and send you to town little girl.

love love love

Mama