It's Not Just a Haircut...
The only people who have ever cut Zoey's hair share DNA with her. So when June brought Zoey to the salon for a treat she was just a little more than ecstatic. She was moved to immutable giggles, and a smile that would have been impossible to wipe from her beaming face. Someone write this down to remind me later. We have a girl on our hands.
It's not that I wanted her to be a boy. No way. I begged the sky for girls, but I may have been pre-mature buying her that lacrosse stick. What? It's a girl's stick.
Zed loves...I mean loves...all that girl stuff. She likes pink and purple. She likes shiney, glittery, sequined things (that Daddy forbids anyone to buy for her), and tutus, and shopping, and shoes, and getting her hair braided, and an endless stream of girlified things that Daddy can barely comprehend...and THAT was the point. I wanted to spend the rest of my life in a estrogen filled alternate universe than what I had grown up with. That's what I got.
The haircut was $16...the look on her face was worth way more than that.