So here's a true story about me: I have a daughter who is turning three on Thanksgiving. This will be the third birthday I've celebrated with her--the only one I missed out on was her actual birth. So, day of birth aside, we've spent some time together. During that time, my daughter's hair has grown [out of control]. It's grown and it's grown and because maintaining hair is the responsibility of the parent, I've made numerous appointments to cut her precious little afro. I have not, however, pulled the trigger. Why, you ask? It's just hair, you say. Wild hair, for that matter. Why don't you just take that baby [not at all a baby anymore] to a Great Clips and get her shaped up? Well, aren't you smug. I think I mentioned earlier, I've tried. I really have. But beyond the fact that my little lady would sooner stick her hand in a wood chipper than sit in a salon chair, I. Just. Can't. I could lie to you. I could let all this be her