For weeks now, she has been diligently using conditioner in her hair with each shower in an effort to help her hair grow longer. And, it’s been working. Slowly, it’s gaining length. Yesterday, I commented on her campaign.
Me – “Bellina, don’t grow it as long as your mom’s. That’s too long for you.”
Her – “It’s my hair, and you don’t get to decide. I get to do what I want to do with it.”
Silence while I regrouped, mentally. Certainly, I couldn’t argue with her reasoning. Truth is, I’ve gotten used to years of my girl having short hair. It’s hard for me to picture her with long hair. But, indeed, it’s hers.
Me – “How long do you want it?”
She pointed to her feet. I indicated that such a length could be dangerous. She quickly rethought her statement.
Her – “Yeah, I don’t want it that long. Then I might step on it.”
Me – “Or other people might step on it.”
She agreed, and I let it be.
So far I succeeded in getting her hair vision to not extend to Mother Earth. A small persuasion victory. I’m practicing my persuasion skills for years ahead as it’s clear already that she will very much be in her own power.
That’s a good thing. I don’t want her short on that.