February 26, 2006
She loves it. She posed in front of the mirror for about 20 minutes and had me call Julie at work so she could shout "ur-oh air!" ("purple hair") into the phone. She just went to bed, still fluffing it and giggling.
It wasn't as outlandish as she wanted, or as we feared. But it was fun. She sat in the bathtub patiently as her clearly closeted father applied the very very purple mousse stuff to her head. We sang songs and pretended that the stuff dripping from my gloved fingers was blood and generally had fun for half an hour, and then rinse rinse rinse, and a star was born.
Most of the purple came off her face and the back of her neck, I'm happy to report. The bottle says it should wash out in eight to ten shampoos, which in Schuyler's case means in like six months.
Maybe you think it was indulgent to do this for her, but she loved it and she's unlikely to have a job interview in the next few weeks. If she asks for a tattoo next, I'm putting my foot down, though. Not until she's seven, and that's final.