Hair In Her Eyes
When I was in grade school, my hair was often in my eyes. Mom would pull it back with barrettes or ties, but they were no match for a girl with thick hair who loved the monkey bars and jump rope. They usually fell out of my hair before the first bell rang.
Mrs. Vaughn, my third-grade teacher, used to stop at my desk as she walked around the classroom to brush my hair from the front of my face. "I don't like to see your hair in your eyes," she'd say.
I remember thinking it was a bizarre thing to be bothered by. I didn't mind it. I actually kind of liked it, although I don't really know why. I was very shy, so perhaps I viewed it as a means to hide.
Nearly thirty-five years later, I see Mrs. Vaughn's point. My daughter's hair is long enough to get in her eyes, too. It drives me crazy to see her tilting her head in an attempt to see around her hair. If I have a hair tie handy, I take care of it immediately. If I have nothing on hand, I spend a lot of time brushing her hair off to the side.
Much like the third-grade me, though, my daughter is unfazed by a little hair across her face. She can remove a barrette as quickly as I can put one in, and I have to catch her to tie her bangs back. As I try to gather up the front of her hair with one hand and have the tie ready to go in the other, she's trying to wrestle herself free.