Trial and Error

Saturday evenings have become somewhat routine. We have dinner, toss the kids in the bathtub, tuck them soundly in their beds, and enjoy a relaxing evening sans offspring. This routine works well for us all. Consistency has its advantages.

Last night, however, we faced a small change in the routine that, unfortunately, led to unforeseen problems. Following her bath, Lindy suddenly became insistent that I put some "funny pink curlers" in her hair so that she could have "beautiful curly hair" for Church in the morning. Being a pushover for girly requests such as this, I happily spent a few extra minutes fashioning a curler fiesta in her hair.

Later, with the children snoring in the other room I joyfully snuggled up in my own bed and drifted off to dreamland. This peaceful state, however, was not to last.

2:30am: I suddenly felt, rather than heard, a presence next to my bed. I opened my eyes to see my oldest daughter poised nose-to-nose with me while I slept. Apparently the "funny pink curlers" were just too much to bear. I promptly plucked the offending accessories off of her head, shooed her back to her bed, and gratefully nodded off once more.

4:00am: I awoke to the banshee-like screams of a 6 year-old in distress. I ran from my comfy cocoon anticipating all manner of injury. I asked her what was wrong. Her reply? "You took out my curlers...and I forgot that it was Church tomorrow...and I really, really, really wanted curly hair for Church!"

Solution: The Curling Iron. A great invention. Sure...it changed my Sunday morning routine, but the reassuring promise of a magic appliance that would create curls without the pink headache was heaven-sent during the pre-dawn hours. And her joy the next morning knew no bounds.

PHEW!