By JANE MARSH.
That is—unbrushed. Unkempt. Wild.
Now, ya’ might think that’s a granola-hippy-natural kind of thing.
And you might think—bloody lazy attachment parents, not with it enough to perform the simple task of running a comb through their kids hair in the morning.
Or you might think—if you’re a self-identified AP mama, perhaps — that it’s because… well, it’s not important. And there are more important things. Sleep. Play. Breastfeeding. Perusing the fair-trade-all-wooden-no-plastic toy catalogue. (I’m not making fun of you. OK, I am, a little. But – I’ve had that catalogue too. Chill.)
Nope. It’s actually really important. The not brushing even more so than the brushing.
I’m going to shout it.
IT’S THEIR HAIR.
Part of their bodies.
I do not assault it, when they are unwilling, with a hair brush, any more than I would assault, do violence, on any other part of their bodies.
Under their own dominion—not mine.
Their wild, messy hair? Part of the lesson that they’re learning that no one—not me, not nice Mr. Jones down the street, not that creepy dude in the park, and not their first, over-eager boyfriend—has a right to do anything to their bodies that they don’t want them to do.
This is a lesson our children need to learn, repeatedly, while they are close enough to us that they will learn it, hear it.
But we don’t teach it with words. We don’t teach it with scary lectures or with fear.
We teach with how we treat their bodies. From their nose to their toes, and all the parts in-between.
And their hair.
Think about that next time you wield a hair brush.
Does Jane’s position make you look at the daily hairbrush battle in a different way, or do you think it’s an overreaction?