Taking care of girls can be a hair-raising experience.
As I shove grapes into Tupperware for my two daughters’ lunches, these words drift down from the upstairs bathroom: “He’s right here.”
I had a smile, all the while cursing the crumbs at the bottom of their recyclable lunch bags.
The “he” that they’re referring to is actually a hair product called “Mist-er Right,” and a part of me laments that my daughters, ages 13 and 10, now spend less time eating breakfast with me and more time on hair issues with their mother upstairs.
Hair has always been a big deal in our family — literally — both daughters inherited voluminous hair from their mother.
As an at-home dad I have tried hard to learn how to manage the girls’ hair.
Unlike my own father, I know my way around terms like “high bun” and “side pony,” and it’s possible that was me you saw browsing hair extensions at Ulta (and later at Sally).
However, when it comes to actually styling hair, you might call me Mr. Wrong. I’ve tried many products over the years, including shampoos with slogans like “No More Tangles,” but that became false advertising under my comb.
As toddlers, their hair was so outrageously curly that women would stop me at the park, compliment their hair, and ask earnestly, “Do you curl it?” In more extreme cases, they actually asked, “Is that a wig?” In my head, I would ask “What about my bloodshot eyes, unshaven face and baseball-capped head could possibly make you think I have any beautician skills?”
In reality, I would just say, “No, but thanks for believing I could curl hair!”
I should clarify that hair has always been a big deal in our family for everyone except me. My hair loss has only accelerated since parenthood.
As the girls grew older, I swear they were somehow transplanting my mutinous hair to their growing heads, perhaps while I slept. Fortunately, my wife has a knack for styling hair, so the girls learned long ago how to avoid a “Dad hair day.”
To help the girls (and me) practice how to style hair, a few years ago we purchased “Mei Mei,” a mannequin doll head with full black hair. “Her” neck contains a vice that secures her to the tabletop.
My daughters use Mei Mei to practice hair-braiding; I tend to use her on Halloween to scare trick-or-treaters.
Every morning as I finish packing lunches, I feel satisfied that I’ve been able to fill many unconventional gender roles, though hairstylist remains elusive.
Regarding my daughters, I’m thankful that so far Mr. Right still only refers to a curl revitalizer.
