Girl with a (metaphorical) curl

I had a badly needed haircut this morning, at a new place that had been recommended by a few friends. I wasn't sure about it at first, but now that I've had a while to pose in front of the mirror at home and flatten it down some from its slightly Jersey-Shore proportions, I think it's not bad. The acid test, as always, will come when I wash and dry it myself, but I can put that off for a good few days yet.

Mabel had a perfectly good morning at school, but it deteriorated horribly when I removed her hastily from playgroup at lunchtime and she had a screaming fit all the way home in the car. She was stockpiling the riding toys and refusing to let anyone else play with them even though she wasn't either, so I decided it was time to go. Cue the screaming. And some more screaming, all the way home in the car, because of the indignity of being removed early.

So you would have assumed that no sharing + screaming tantrum = a child ready to nap. You would have assumed wrong, apparently. She sat and nursed on the sofa for a long time, watched TV, and finally was playing alone quite happily, but when we tried to go upstairs and lie down she wouldn't even stay there.

Then she went into the bathroom and plastered liquid hand-soap all over her hair.

You know, she's a perfectly sweet child. Just don't cross her, if you value your eardrums.

Current conversation snippet:

Monkey: Mabel, are you making up these stories as you go along?
Mabel: Yes.
A daughter after her mother's heart.