Megan Sibley and Chloe have always been good friends. When we were able to get in a house next to them my kids thought they were in heaven.. In 2004 Megan cut Chloe's hair. This past month she wrote a story about that experience and she won first place. So I had to dig up the pictures and post them so you could see what a hair cut it was... I never worried about the scissors with my kids it just wasn't something I thought twice about...this haircut happened at Brenda's house while her mom (who really is a great babysitter) was in charge...
Here is her story and the pictures. Now if you know Chloe don't say anything to her about this she would die of embarrassment and then kill me for posting it...
The (Very Bad) Haircut
By Megan Sibley, 4th grader
We, as friends, do things
Not approved by adults
But we learn soon after
That we don’t like the results
I made up this poem to roughly describe what my best friend and I felt after playing with hair scissors and odd ideas.
My best friend, Chloe Smith, and I were always coming up with weird and, at one time, life changing ideas. One of them was playing Barber Shop. We would lay down a circular tablecloth on the floor, then put a child sized rocking chair in the middle. The person getting the haircut would sit in the chair and the barber (or, as we called it, the “hair cutter”) would come in and start to brush their hair. Chloe was getting the cut, and I was the hair cutter.
A few days earlier, my mom and I had watched What Not to Wear, and I saw a person putting glowing, silver-like paper on a woman’s hair while she sat in a chair much like ours. I thought I’d seen some of it in our house. I found it in one of our kitchen drawers, tore it into one inch pieces, and put each silver strip onto Chloe’s light brown hair. Then, of course, I took out the scissors. Chloe wasn’t sure she wanted me, a five year old, to cut her hair, but I was determined. As I held a piece of her hair between my index and middle finger, I scooped up the scissors and cut off about two inches of hazel brown hair. I saw the hair float down to the tablecloth like a feather plucked off a bird in flight. I liked the way it did that. I did it again, and again, and again. After clumps of hair left her scalp, my mom came in. She looked at Chloe’s head, openmouthed. There was a whole inch of exposed scalp that sat on top of Chloe’s head. Unexpectedly, Chloe let out a waterfall of tears as my mom went to get the phone. I tried to comfort Chloe, but apparently she didn’t want anything to do with me. My mom came back in, talking to Chloe’s mom on the phone.
Chloe’s aunt was in town and she was a real “hair cutter.” We walked Chloe to her house (which wasn’t more than two houses away) and her aunt went to work on her niece’s hair: evening it out and trying to cover the vacant spots. Chloe’s hair was neater, but it was most definitely short.
Are you ready for the photos??
Here is her story and the pictures. Now if you know Chloe don't say anything to her about this she would die of embarrassment and then kill me for posting it...
The (Very Bad) Haircut
By Megan Sibley, 4th grader
We, as friends, do things
Not approved by adults
But we learn soon after
That we don’t like the results
I made up this poem to roughly describe what my best friend and I felt after playing with hair scissors and odd ideas.
My best friend, Chloe Smith, and I were always coming up with weird and, at one time, life changing ideas. One of them was playing Barber Shop. We would lay down a circular tablecloth on the floor, then put a child sized rocking chair in the middle. The person getting the haircut would sit in the chair and the barber (or, as we called it, the “hair cutter”) would come in and start to brush their hair. Chloe was getting the cut, and I was the hair cutter.
A few days earlier, my mom and I had watched What Not to Wear, and I saw a person putting glowing, silver-like paper on a woman’s hair while she sat in a chair much like ours. I thought I’d seen some of it in our house. I found it in one of our kitchen drawers, tore it into one inch pieces, and put each silver strip onto Chloe’s light brown hair. Then, of course, I took out the scissors. Chloe wasn’t sure she wanted me, a five year old, to cut her hair, but I was determined. As I held a piece of her hair between my index and middle finger, I scooped up the scissors and cut off about two inches of hazel brown hair. I saw the hair float down to the tablecloth like a feather plucked off a bird in flight. I liked the way it did that. I did it again, and again, and again. After clumps of hair left her scalp, my mom came in. She looked at Chloe’s head, openmouthed. There was a whole inch of exposed scalp that sat on top of Chloe’s head. Unexpectedly, Chloe let out a waterfall of tears as my mom went to get the phone. I tried to comfort Chloe, but apparently she didn’t want anything to do with me. My mom came back in, talking to Chloe’s mom on the phone.
Chloe’s aunt was in town and she was a real “hair cutter.” We walked Chloe to her house (which wasn’t more than two houses away) and her aunt went to work on her niece’s hair: evening it out and trying to cover the vacant spots. Chloe’s hair was neater, but it was most definitely short.
Are you ready for the photos??
My sister in Law was in town and I was like Oh Shirley can fix it, she can fix anything... when Shirley looked at it she looked at me and said "I don't know if I CAN fix this one..." Then I got a little worried...
It all worked out in the end... Chloe looked really cute with her short hair...
