You'd think she was posing for 'Elle' magazine.
"I want curly hair!" was her emphatic plea,
But the problem? Her hair? As straight as can be.
"I don't know, we've tried this before,"
I tried to caution her before we did more.
But I plugged in the hot rollers anyway,
Knowing I'd live to rue the day.
Curlers went in, curlers came out,
"We have curls!" was my victory shout!
One look in the mirror, though, and it all changed,
"I hate these curls!" She sounded deranged.
"No, it's too curly! I hate this curl!
How could YOU do this to your own little girl!"
I wanted to scream, but you see, I'm not nine,
Since I am the grownup, I kept it inside.
I brushed it out, but here is the zinger...
She did kind of look like a bad country singer.
I grabbed a headband, I grabbed a barrette,
I grabbed the hair gel, anything I could get.
"I want my hair to be more straight!"
Okay, I get it, I get it, just wait.
We went with a ponytail, like every other day,
We hit the road and were on our way.
The drama, the trauma, the heartache, the tears.
We've been doing this for how many years?
Next year, I swear, on picture day,
We're calling in sick and will stay home and play.