The first, surprisingly non-traumatic, haircut.

About six months ago, Viv's sparsely populated head suddenly exploded and she, seemingly overnight, grew a fro.  We let it go, wanting to see how it would grow and fill in.  Recently, though, she started to get crazy ends to her curls that would stick out in all directions and catch on clothes and rings and fingers and break off, so we decided it was time to get a trim.  As she despises anyone touching her hair (usually), I was dreading taking her to a salon, fearing a screaming fit in front of the very posh women who shop at U Village.  Imagine my surprise when she not only allowed the stylist to drape her in a cape but mist her hair and TOUCH HER HEAD:

We had rallied the support team (Shelly and Angie) to come with us, to witness the big event as well as provide distraction, but the phone provided enough entertainment to keep her occupied when the cutting started:

The stylist must be considerably more gentle than I am with a comb, so I took notes on her technique to give my kid some relief as well as prevent CPS from coming to our door during our comb-outs.  The screaming, oh God, the screaming.  Anyway, she seemed the find the end result satisfactory, as she wanted us all to see how she looked in the mirror, especially as the stylist had dusted her with pink glitter.  

To reward her for surpassing my very low expectations, we got her a chocolate cupcake, which she ate very sparingly, in her usual dainty fashion.  I mean, how many kids leave cupcake for later?   

I'm sure next time will be just as successful and easy.