Well it was bound to happen. It’s a rite of passage I suppose. In fact, have you ever been to a flea market and NOT seen it? Of course I’m talking about Barbies with eternal haircuts. Nope, Barbie hair does not grow back my friend. It’s like every bald man you’ve ever met regardless of how much Rogaine they rub over their chrome dome … when it’s gone, it’s gone.
Grace came to me this afternoon and asked me to promise not to tell her Daddy something that was probably going to make me mad. I told her I was not promising but she needed to tell me anyway. Here’s how the conversation went.
Grace: I cut my Barbies’ hair.
Me: Why would you do that?
Grace: I was bored.
Me: How many Barbies did you cut?
Grace: I don’t know.
Me: Go where are they?
Grace: In my playroom.
Me: Go get them.
She did. She came down with her rolly backpack full of shorn Barbies. There were ten of them. And a pile of Barbie hair. She suggested we take it to the woods to dispose of it. She really didn’t want her Daddy to know.
The only ones who survived the shearing were the pseudo Barbies and the ones in her bath tub.
Honestly it was hard to be too mad about it. They actually turned out pretty cute. All except Rapunzel, she’s screwed. She looks like she just got back from Jamaica and she let those ladies braid her hair. She’s got some seriously messed up dreadlocks going on.
I told Grace she was not getting anymore Barbie dolls since she obviously couldn’t take care of them appropriately.
I threw the hair in the trash can and I did tell her Daddy. It was too funny not too. He wasn’t mad, just flummoxed as to WHY she would do it. Well me too really. I don’t think I ever cut my Barbies’ hair.
Maybe she’ll be a hairstylist instead of a vet.
You just never know.