Friday, June 22, 2012

My kid is pretty sharp

Today has been full of blah and boring tasks. The girls are going to camp, so with that comes packing...and lots of it. I know that I have no right to complain about anything. I have healthy children, my husband has a job and we have a cool house to live in on these hot summer days. But I hate packing. Oh well. As my friend Ralph says, "It is what it is.". The packing needs to be done and it is getting done. Trips to Target were made to get last minute toiletries and trips to the doctor were made for last minute immunizations. That Hep A had to be tended to, much to the chagrin of S.

The day passed quickly. Dinner came and went. Then, the Just Dance 2 competition with the girl. I was doing alright until the Sugar Hill Gang's "Apache". Holy moly am I going to be sore tomorrow. Anyway, let me get to the point of this post.

Growing up, I had long hair. I mean long, super duper thick, auburn hair that I wore in two pigtails with ribbons everyday. My mom can braid faster than anyone I know, but she never could French braid. After cutting it and wearing it short all through high school, I decided to grow it out. By the end of my freshman year at college, it was long enough to pull up into neat hairstyles. My mom's dear friend, Mrs. Eyvonne Crowder(may she rest in peace), spent several hours with me teaching me how to French braid. First I practiced on her daughter and then was sent on my way to practice on my own. Oh my. Let's flash forward to today for just a second. In the mail came American Girl Magazine, which is always devoured with great gusto by my girls. This edition had a how-to on different types of braids. S set forth to teach herself how to do this on her own, hoping that she could do her own braids at camp. How sweet, I thought, but boy is she going to be frustrated. I don't think I will ever learn. This is how our experiences in learning differed:



She was doing remarkably well. I was very impressed. Flashback to me at 19 and I began to hang my head:



I had so much hair that luckily my insane attempts at braiding didn't effect the look, even with fistfuls coming out. Not my proudest moment. But I learned. I threw some profanities around, but I learned.

I must brag and show you her second attempt of the evening. Pretty good, I must say, and NO screaming.



Remind me never to underestimate the power of her determination. Cool girl, she is.
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1 comment:

  1. She did a wonderful job! I could never French braid my own hair, only someone else's :)

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