As most of my friends and family know, the color of my hair has been under much debate. After 31 years, and two kids, it has darkened so much that it’s a running joke (some say it’s “fact”) that I am a brunette now and no longer a blonde. So, when the conversation turned to hair color at the dinner table the other night, I was interested in what my 3-year-old daughter Avery might say. She started by noticing that she herself had yellow hair. Charlie, her baby brother, too. Then she said that daddy has brown hair. I was fully expecting her to say that I, too, had brown hair. But there was a glimmer of hope that she might think my hair was still “yellow.”
So, with anticipation I waited as daddy asked “What color hair does mommy have?” She slowly said, “Mommy has … gray hair!” I was so shocked I didn’t know what to do! I covered my face and laughed so hard I was crying. Okay, maybe I was sobbing so hard that I was laughing. I certainly did both.
So, I dyed my hair.