I constantly prod Chloe to allow me to buy her cool barrettes (skulls!), style her hair, trim her bangs.  You know what it’s like.  Begging.  Pleading.  Faking a severe illness to induce guilt.  Until today, Chloe hasn’t let me touch her hair in months, except to pat her head.

But I finally broke her down earlier this afternoon, as we were preparing to go into the city for a show.  I proposed a single braid, and she relented.  Probably because she was distracted by a game on her Papa’s iPhone.  Otherwise, I think she would have rolled her eyes and walked away from me.

Her hair is so thick that it was a bit of challenge, but I managed a braid.  I took a photo as proof that she actually let me do it, and to show her how lovely it looked.  She reluctantly agreed that “it wasn’t bad.”

The ‘do lasted about an hour until the braid started to unweave.  And then her hair was as disheveled as usual.  But for that hour, it sure as hell looked nice.

I will take these small steps as progress.  And continue to hope that one day, in the not too distant future, she will appreciate all the awesome things she can do with her tresses, or at the very least, let us cut her bangs.