As I write this...

My daughter Isabel cut her hair today.

She was feeling as though she was not getting enough attention from me.

I left the scissors in the drawer.

She got real quiet-like while I was laying for a relished moment of relaxation... But I let it go for a couple minutes. All was good. Was it?

She got herself some chocolate sherbet (Dairy-free) and sat on the porch. Mmmmmmm. The joys of summer. I sit with her for a few minutes.

Eventually I realize I forgot something in the office...

...Crap. Hair. haironthefloor. Hair all-over the floor...

Mommy runs back to the porch. "Sweetie?," "Where did you cut your hair?"

(Stops eating sherbet for a second.) "Right here Momma." (Points to the front right of her hair, where the long bangs went.)

"Oh, OK dear." (Totally relived that it isn't hardly obvious, or even more, right to the scalp, regardless of the tons of hair on the office floor.) "I love you sweetie." I want her to know. Regardless of any emotion or (knee-jerk) judgment I have for her actions. "I love you to the moon and back."

"Yep," she says. (And ::nods::) "I love you, too, Momma," as she looks up to me to tell me she knows.

She knows.

We know.

We both know how we love each other.

We know.