I’ve been dealing with allergies or a slight cold for a few days so last night right before bed I opted for a couple of Benadryl. Ohhh yeah, gonna sleep good tonight!
The kids were getting ready for bed but Lydia was taking an unusually long time to brush her teeth.
“You okay in there, Baby?” I holler.
A significant pause. “I’m fine,” she shouts back.
Benadryl-infused Carrie does not notice the hesitation.
At 8:45 Lydia finally comes out of the bathroom, and in an oddly cheery voice says, “Uhh, Mom? A little help?”
I look down the hall and I see Lydia with what looks like a squirrel’s nest on the right side of her head. Upon closer inspection, it’s her hair all tangled up in a round bristle brush.
“I was trying to make it curly,” she explains. Her oddly cheerful voice was the only dam holding back a flood of tears.
For the next two hours –two hours! — Lydia sat perched on a chair in my bathroom while I meticulously, laboriously coaxed her hair out of that damn brush. Copious amounts of fancy conditioner were used, my favorite pair of tweezers were sacrificed, and even a pair of dykes were brought in to cut the tips off the bristles.
At 10:50 p.m. that god-forsaken brush was finally pried off the girl. It took another 20 minutes to detangle the briar patch that was left over, then another ten minutes for Lydia to take a shower and wash out the conditioner and bits of hair bristles.
Honestly, what amazes me most about this story is not the tenacity of the brush or the stoicism of Lydia in the imminent threat of a military-grade buzzcut. Y’all — I took two Benadryl and then STAYED AWAKE for four hours.
What a wild night.
