I was nursing the baby this morning, enjoying the peace and quiet.
When, all of a sudden, I realized that there was "peace and quiet."
Not such a good thing when you have a 2-year-old in the house.
At that very moment, she came trotting out of the office, with a proud beam on her sweet cheeks and a pair of scissors in her hands, "Do I look pretty, mommy?"
My mouth dropped. I surveyed the damage. She burst into tears. I tried to console her, "Next time, tell mommy if you want your hair cut, sweet girl. It's okay - it will grow back. You're still beautiful."
A few minutes later, she looked up at me with a serious expression, "Did my hair grow back now?"
"No, not yet," I said, casually, "It might take a little while."