…and baths bring hair that can be combed. Olivia’s hair is always one tangle away from a rat’s nest, which makes styling it an adventure. I don’t blame her for running away at the sight of combs or brushes.
In order to establish some sense of hair decorum though, we’ve had to utilize both a third party and Olivia’s obsession with haircuts (at malls, she makes us stop by hair studios so that she can observe the lopping of the locks). At G’s house, Olivia gets out a stool, a towel (which she calls a cape), barrettes, and hair ties in preparation for heh-cut time. She lets G work on her hair first, and then returns the favor (as shown above).
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