BBQ stories

To continue on in the series of stories that get triggered by words said at a gathering, usually at a BBQ, this story gets told when the topic turns to haircuts and children.

I had got my hair cut and coloured while the girls were at school.  Gab was in grade two at the time, and I went up to the gate to wait for her with the other mums.  I graciously accepted the compliments on my new haircut I was sporting straight from the hairdresser (by the way, it never ever looks like that ever again).

Both my girls often don't react to me getting my hair cut very well.  I remember also being a bit startled when my Mum got her hair cut - you have to quickly change your mental image of your mum.

Annika came out of the gate and said 'What have you done?!' with her face aghast.

Gab came skipping up with her bag, then stopped in her tracks.  She took one look at my hair, and then said, 'Can I go camping with Dad this weekend?'

'Sure', I said, a little dubiously, 'Why?'

'So I don't have to look at your HAIR.'

Kerslap.

Lesson learned: warn your children about possible haircuts.

And for the record, I had about three centimetres trimmed off and it was coloured a lighter blonde.  Not that dramatic a difference.