Mom called me on her way to work tonight. I probably sounded like I was ten.
"Guess what? I'm gonna cut Cassie's hair, and she's gonna cut mine!"
Hesitant pause, then, "Really?" which meant, "Lord, I prayed for years for them to get along again. Talk some sense into them!"
You see, there was an incident when Cassie was in elementary school. I trimmed her bangs. Mom knew about it. In the backyard, I carefully trimmed from right to left. They were perfect! Well, almost perfect. The last little snip was a teeny tiny bit shorter. I'd done such a great job, though, I was sure I could even it up. However, going from left to right was not as easy for a righty like me, and they were a bit crooked. The next thing I knew, I'd made several passes, the bangs were still crooked, and they were only about 1/2 inch long on the short side. I had no more chances to fix them! I apologized. Her horror stricken face and new hairstyle was a hilarious combination, and I let out a nervous giggle that developed into a laughing fit.
That's how mom found me. She incorrectly deduced from my laughter that I had butchered Cassie's hair on purpose. Man, was I in trouble. I never attempted a trim again. Mom took over bang trimming, and used Scotch tape as a guide until Cass grew her bangs out.
So, when Cassie first asked me to cut her hair tonight, I was pretty sure she was kidding. Really, she just needed to save some cash. I've been needing a haircut, too, so I told her I'd cut hers if she'd cut mine.
"Oh, so if you mess mine up, I can get you back?". Ouch.
Actually, in thirty-some years, I've had quite a few bad haircuts, some purchased. So, if she did ok, it'd save me some money. If it was horrible, I'd go short again and splurge twenty dollars at the Hair Cuttery for repair.
So we donned bathing suits, took the littles in the backyard pool, then cut each other's wet hair. There were a few close moments, like when our sister-in-law and the boys' godmom exchanged looks with the beautician. There was also the time factor. My hair was nearly dry halfway through my cut, but the kids helped with that. I walked to the pool amd they gave me a good splashing, and then a blast from the pool noodle fountain. But guess what? We're still talking--at least until we see the haircuts in the morning.