I sent Ella outside with her scissors to go cut me a sprig of Rosemary. When she hadn’t returned after what seemed like an awfully long time, I stuck my head out and asked what she was doing.
The answer was: “Cutting my hair.”
So I rushed over to grab the scissors off her and walked away saying quite angrily that she was not allowed to use them anymore, which of course made her cry.
It only took me a minute to realise that a) she looked hilarious and b) my emotive reaction probably wasn’t fair fair on her, so I asked her:
Me – Ella, did you know that you’re not allowed to cut your own hair?
Ella – No.
Me – Well, you aren’t. When we want our hair cut, we go to the hairdresser.
Ella – Why?
Me – Because they are really good at it. And we’re not. You have to go to hairdressers school to learn how to properly cut hair.
Ella – Oh.
It made me again realise that it is impossible to spell out all the things that she is NOT allowed to do. When I hand her back the scissors tomorrow, I will instead try to provide her with an exclusive list of what she IS allowed to cut.
And I’ll make a hairdressers appointment today. Though it will take a while before it has grown back to a length that will allow a decent cut.