But it's cyoot!

Hubby decided, on our Easter mini-vacation trip to my folks, that enough was enough.

Medium Fry's hair had grown out of its previous shorter and thinned cut, and was becoming a bear to try to get brushed out.  Small Fry's was also getting long, and causing more crises at hairbrush time.

Time for haircuts.

He asked me this morning if I had any objection to him getting that done today.

Nope, still mired in work.  Carry on.

I went back to sorting through the final details of payroll...which seemed to be taking after rabbits today.  Every time I thought I was done, something else would crop up.

Then I turned to untangling the two current billing issues.

I was finally done when I heard the van pull into our gravel drive.  Then I heard footsteps on the stairs, followed by two sets of little feet coming down the hall.

"We bwought you lunch!" Small Fry said cheerily.

"Thank you," I said, eying her haircut.  "It's so short!"  This, I said to myself, is what happens when Hubby takes little girls in for haircuts.

I ran my fingers through her hair, trying to see if it would still PT (ponytail, since you didn't have the luxury of growing up in my house and hearing that term).  It wouldn't!  It would kind of half-PT, which was cute, but it would have to grow out.

On the plus side, her curls are all bouncy again.

And if I really hate it, well, it's hair.  It'll grow.

But no more braids or fun hairdos for awhile.

But, as Small has told us, "it's cyoot!"