Asked what she wanted for her birthday, Hazel responded: “A Ponytail”.

Third birthday came and went, no ponytail.  Her best friend at school has waist-length, silky straight, jet black hair.  The curly mop was not doing it for my little girl any more.

Then grandma came to visit, and produced out of her bag – a ponytail!  Fourteen inches of platinum perfection.  I pinned in that weave and my baby girl got her wish.

The next day, she showed up at school with the bobbed curls again.  The best friend asked, “Where is your HAIR??”  Hazel, cool as a cucumber, replied, “At home.”

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