She’s four years old and introduced me by name to her hair styling shop.
She tells me so proudly the currency is lollipops.
I smile as she cocks her head to one side. “I think purple for your hair” she cries.
Twenty minutes later and I’m covered in flies, a horror story zombie with dark red eyes.
Five minutes more and I fear it’s too late.
She’s mixing a palette and my face is a state.
Five minutes more and I’m running for the door.
“Come back dad! your hair and back and arms need more!”
I’m a man’s man, a super daddy.
An hour in I’m wearing ear rings a necklace and she’s calling me Sandy.
© G.P Williamson 2018 <——– hit for my Instagram!