Haircuts and chocolate

This morning the girls were playing in their room with the door closed. This isn't unusual these days, but it doesn't mean they're just sitting on their beds reading books. (Although actually it did the other day when they were pretending to "nap.") Still, it was so nice to have a little peace and quiet that I tried not to wonder what was going on in there.

Anna Kimball eventually wandered into the living room and said something about how she didn't want a haircut. To which I said, "No, honey, that's ok. You don't need a haircut." Didn't think much of it until I went to check on Emery a few minutes later ...

She was in a corner, kneeled over with her head on the ground, silent. And then I saw the scissors. And the hair. And the deeply ashamed look on her face.

Funny thing is she sort of gave herself bangs and it doesn't look terrible. But I do believe she feels pretty terrible because every time I have mentioned it today the ashamed look comes back on her face and she quickly murmurs "Sorry."

Emery tends to be a model firstborn who plays by the rules and I kind of didn't think we'd go through this rite of passage. On the other hand, she has been begging me for a haircut the past few weeks. I guess she got tired of waiting. :) So we're getting a proper one tomorrow.

Tonight I told Matt that for much of the day I feel like crying and stuffing my face with chocolate. Just so he knows. And he does. It's that hard here in this house with three kids under 5, including one boy who shall remain nameless but is a terrible napper and frequently cannot tolerate it when I leave the room or when he is plopped on the kitchen floor over and over and over again. We are at that stage with him that we just have to keep handing him plastic to play with, any kind of plastic, anything that seems safe and interesting. And so the house is an utter disaster between all of his gizmos that don't really entertain him that much and all of the imagination explosions the girls concoct, which I love love love but dread dread dread supervising the clean up process for.

For the record, though, I did not cry today. And I kept the chocolate intake to one salted dark chocolate caramel and a small handful of chocolate chips. If that's not victory than what is?