I have a pretty fabulous husband. I probably don't tell him nearly enough, and with kids in the house I think sometimes taking proper care of each other gets swept under the rug while we place so much of our energy into taking care of our children. So, I thought that today I would pay a little homage to my fabulous hubby, Calvin.
But, I must begin with a tale about Lady M.
One night, a few months ago, I offered to braid Lady M's hair after her bath so she could sleep on her plaits and wake up with a head of wavy hair. For us straight-haired girls, having a little wave is pretty awesome. And for the record, if crimping was resurrected as a popular style, and somehow made appropriate to showcase in the office, I'd totally be on that train.
So, braid her hair I did, and wake up with awesome waves she did. After being 'ooh'd' and 'ahh'd' over by the older girls at school who monitor her lunch room, Lady M was hooked. Braids were the new straight. It may have also had something to do with not having to sit under the heat of a hairdryer on a warm night, but whatever the reason, braiding has become the new norm after each bath. I've waited for a few years for her to really let me play with her hair, so I'm more than happy to braid away, and always shocked at her willingness to sit still while I do.
Fast forward now to this past Sunday night. Cal and I finished giving the girls their baths, but I was heading to a fitness class, so would not be participating in the full bedtime routine. We had hit a small snag in the plan, however, as Lady M wanted her braids. I had a hot date with my weights and boxing gloves, so my hands were not available that evening. But, my darling husband, and Lady M's loving Daddy said "I'll do it!".
But, you have to french braid, I said. "Well, what does that mean?", he asked. I explained that french braiding was the fine art of starting the braid right at the top and adding the hair in bit by bit as you go along, making sure that her waves went from the top of her hair to the bottom, not having straight hair on top, curls at the bottom. He confidently said "no problem', and I was off to my class.
When I got home that night, I snuck into the slumbering Lady M's room to give her a kiss, as I always do. I just about melted when I saw the four sweet little french braids that her daddy had lovingly put into her hair. Were they perfect? No. Were they well done? Yes, you bet they were. More importantly, I know he did it with love, and made his little girls' night.
The following morning I pulled the elastics out of her hair, though I noticed that the braids didn't go all the way to the bottom of the hair; instead, each braid ended with a small ponytail of loose hair. "What happened there?", I asked. "I ran out of hair", he told me. But, even with the lack of bottom braid, our little girl left for school with wavy hair and a twinkle in her eye.
I suspect not all dad's would be willing to learn to french braid, and I'm happy to be married to one who will. Cal's a pretty fabulous guy for many, many reasons, and this is just one of them.