When we were at the beach in July, both girls got hair wraps, which are just the kind of thing that I get a disproportionate amount of pleasure in agreeing to buy.
You know why? Because as a kid my family never once vacationed at a beach and my parents never would have spent money on a hair wrap and whether that means anything doesn't matter; what matters is a childhood of envy at the pretty strings in other kids' hair. The endless possibilities that lie in color combinations-- whenever any kid (clearly not from my family) came back from a vacation with a rainbow of hair wrap, I'd look on carefully and imagine what my own selections might have been.
And I won't bother to argue that's it's not a frivolous use of money. But oh, their delight. Their careful thought processes in selecting floss colors. The squeals of admiration and, yes, envy, when their friends saw their hair wraps upon our return from vacation.
Isn't living vicariously the privilege of parenthood?
The wraps were beautiful for about a month, and then it was time to dismantle them.
And they're still sort of beautiful.
August 21, 2011 Autopsy of a hair wrap.