I don't do hair drama. Really. You pretty much have to care about hair in order to create drama about it, and I don't. I was given the straightest most do whatever it wants hair on planet Earth, and I'm OK with that. In fact, I embrace it.

Several years ago someone managed to convince me that I should highlight my very average brown hair. I figured "whatever" and went with it. Then I just kept on doing it because a certain person I promised to love and cherish forever liked it. For eight years I paid insane money to maintain it every three or four months, and felt dirty for it every. single. time. Recently, the sheer expense and hassle of it all got to me and I decided it was time to go back to dark so that I can be done with messing with it.

I was a wee bit concerned that the Toddler might just freak out. She is OBSESSED with my hair. She can't keep her grubby little fingers out of it. Ever. At all. Sometimes I think I should cut it all off and have it made into a blanket so that she can carry it everywhere. Not only would that mean she wouldn't be yanking on those little hairs at the nape of my neck until tears come to my eyes, I would also get the bonus of watching people freak out as she pets her Hairy Blanket.

So it was with a bit of trepidation that I dyed it back to brown last Saturday. Fortunately, Alexis couldn't have cared less. That might have had a little bit to do with the fact that it didn't "take," though. In fact, as the hairdresser was rinsing the shampoo out, she said, "We can fix this now or you can come back." For what it's worth, that's totally a feel good statement when you don't have a mirror in front of you.

It turned out that the brown had come out very, um, splotchy. Like, I looked like a blond cow with brown spots under good light. In crappy light, it wasn't all that noticeable, but I'm sure with time it would have faded to AWFUL. So I went back on Wednesday to get it fixed. The only problem was that instead of just FIXING it, the girl actually dyed it even darker. Like, way darker. (So much for eliminating the need to pay for color maintenance.) I guess because I got in late and the sun had already set, Alexis didn't notice that evening.

I know she didn't notice because the next day when I picked her up from daycare, she was FULL of notice. As she went through her ceremonious slow-motion run to the love of her life (me), she froze in her tracks.

"Momma, your hair!" she said hesitantly.

She slowly closed the short distance between us, reached up, and began lightly twirling my hair.

"Momma, it's black," she said.

I slowly asked, "Do you like it?"

The Toddler thought for a moment, one eyebrow cocked, then said, "Yes! You look like Snow White!"

I'm going to take that as the ultimate compliment.