When I was decorating my wig for our Halloween party back in October, I bought a few shades of spray-on hair color to help me achieve the look I was going for. Annie was playing in the backyard when I colored the wig, and she wandered over to watch. “Can I have rainbow hair, too?” She asked me. “Not today honey – maybe next week!” I replied. “Next week,” is my standard answer for anything I hope she’ll forget about. And surprisingly, she actually did seem to forget about the hair dye.
A few days ago Annie and I were watching TV and a commercial came on for some doll with color-changing hair, and of course Annie went crazy. “Mama! Remember when you said I could have rainbow hair? It’s next week!” Screw elephants: toddlers never forget.
I thought about the mess involved. And then I thought about our day. It was a rare day where we didn’t have anywhere to go, and the weather was beautiful: the perfect day for multicolored hair. So I decided to actively forget about the sticky mess the spray is and tell her yes (You’d think that after five plus years of being a mom and ten plus years of being with Mike, I’d have gotten over my hatred of sticky, but alas.).
She was great, she stood still for the entire thing, closed her eyes when I told her to, and thought it was hilarious when I realized I’d accidentally dyed my hand.
My pink-dyed hand made me die a little inside.
Since I sprayed her hair in the backyard, she had no idea what it looked like. She kept asking, “Can I see? Can I see?” We brought her into my bathroom so she could get a look.
She loved it. She said over and over, “I love my rainbow hair! I love it!”
We took her back outside to have the sun help dry her hair (which yes, is totally anal since it’s basically just colored hair spray, but baby steps for me), and she kept flipping her hair and looking at her reflecting in our windows.
Then Mike joked, “She’s like a rock star!” And we ran with it because we’re dorks and Annie is a ham.
She rocked that hair with so much confidence that I forgot at times that it was colored. I took her with me to the grocery store and only remembered her hair was pink and purple after someone commented that her hair matched her dress.
Annie wasn’t thrilled with me during her bath when I shampooed out the dye (the bathtub was also grody), but I promised her we’d do it again soon. I started experimenting with peroxide on my hair when I was thirteen (horrifying for so many reasons), so I figure as long as I can keep Annie’s interest in hair color toward the spray-on variety, I’m golden…or rainbow, as the case may be.