High Maintenance

Yesterday afternoon, it finally happened.

Melina asked for her first piece of beauty equipment.  We've already been through ribbons, hair gel, hair ties, barrettes, head bands, and bandanas.  We own scads of tights, mostly in pink, and the sheer amount of ruffles in her wardrobe is astonishing.

But this afternoon, in a uncharacteristic whiny little voice, Melina said, "Mom, I need my hair wavy."

"Well, I guess we'll need to put it back into braids," I said.  The previous night we'd managed to place 3 braids into her fine silky tresses.  She wore her hair down and wavy to school.

"But that will take too long. Can you curl it?" Melina asked.

"The curling iron won't make it wavy."

"Well I need it wavy."

In a moment I now realize was a bad parenting moment (or maybe not), I went ahead and gave her an idea.  "I guess we could put a hair crimper on your Christmas list."

No sooner had the words escaped my lips and I found myself slapping myself on the forehead.  Kicking myself in the bum.  I was an enabler of high maintenance Melina.  

Her eyes lit up.  "Okay, mom, can you put that on my list?  And put a check on it."

I guess I better go do some shopping.

***

The odd thing about this child, is that on every other count, she is not high maintenance.  Melina doesn't mind being shuffled around during the week, helping me do errands.  If she doesn't get what she wants, she usually doesn't complain and is happy with an alternative.  On a normal day, I find that I do not have to indulge Melina, and therefore, sometimes, when the time is right, I do.  Not that I need to explain myself to you, dear readers, right?

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