I’m five in this memory. One weekday morning, I’m watching TV with a spare hair tie in my hand when suddenly, a fun idea occurs to me. A giggle creeps up my throat as I reach for my toddler brother, who is sitting in front of me. His soft hair is short, but long enough to make a tiny partial ponytail.
When I’m almost done, however, my brother notices my secret experiment.
“Be still for a second!” I command as he wiggles and tries to escape my hold. “You’re about to look so pretty!”
Instead of listening to my instruction, my brother stands up and starts running. In our tiny apartment, there’s not much space to run around, but he runs, and I chase him. With the hair tie in my hand.
“Wait!” I reach for my brother’s hair, bursting with laughter. “You got to do this. You’ll look so cute! Don’t you want to look cute?”
But my brother doesn’t stop. He keeps running. From this side of the room to the other. Then back to this side. Stubbornly refusing my attempt to make a tiny ponytail on his head. I’m not giving up so easily either.
“Wait!” I repeat as I run after my brother, taking every chance to grasp his hair with my hair tie. “Just one second!”
Today, however, my brother is very stubborn. It seems he really doesn’t want his hair to be messed with. It’s my mother who intervenes.
“Stop it, Sweetie,” she warns me as she crosses the room with a basketful of washed clothes. “Your brother says he doesn’t want it.”
Still giggling like crazy, I finally stop running and drop the hair tie.