"Momma, when I'm bigger enough, can I dye my hair?" Alexis asked.
The kid spends entirely too much time concerning herself with the future. She plans and plans and plans, creating benchmarks and goals and dreams and aspirations. She sticks to them all, too, so I have to be careful how I answer her.
"I'll think about it," I decided to go with the safest answer possible.
"Can I have pink streaks?" she continued. "And some purple ones, too!" she added.
I thought about it for a second and realized I really wasn't opposed to her dying her hair bright colors. Just not NOW, obviously. Maybe in ten years.
I know better than to leak any sort of time frame, however, so I said, "I'll think about it." Always with the safest answer possible.
"OK," Alexis said. She tends to accept the "think about it" line, but only because she knows she can ask 5,301,924 more times or until I just cave.
Realizing that I wasn't really in the mood to spend the entire day answering the same question, I decided to scope out just far ahead the kid was planning this time. Sometimes she's plotting what she'll do next week, but usually she's trying to schedule every moment of her teen years. At the rate she's making plans, she's going to have to have about eight 16th birthday parties if she wants to fit it all in. "When are you trying to put pink streaks in your hair?" I asked.
"Ummm... When I'm 60! Can I dye my hair when I'm 60?" she asked with an air of excitement in her voice.
I chucked before answering, "Absolutely. You can absolutely put pink streaks in your hair when you're 60."
It's nice getting to be the good guy once in a while.
