"Are they crying now? Now? NOW?!"

This looks like England celebrating England and Englishness, mostly

A big day for England, and a big day for us... It was meant to be, anyway, but come The Wedding, it's quite a job getting everyone motivated, out of bed, into a reasonably decent outfit and out of the house in search of a public screening - eventually found in a pub down by the harbour.
Tara and I are the most excited (not to say, the only ones in the family who care), but big weddings and princesses? Who would not be over the moon?
I've prepped my girl and told her how it was going to go down: Wedding in church, fabulous dress, everyone crying, long ride in carriage, kiss and done. For us, brunch in pub with telly and very many ooohs and aaahs.

"Are they crying yet?"

The Girl Approach to celebrational hats, and The Leo Approach

Ride in carriage with flashback

We have visitors (but they're not very interested and therefore face the wrong way)

Kiss kiss

What a dress!

(Five years of my new anual salary, apparently, before tax. But it's pretty.)

Hand-made flag, courtesy of school art session im Hochzeitsfieber

I guess you can't call us patriots if we're not proper English... but the House of Hannover and us, well we're practically family! And Tara and I, we like a good story about a beautiful princess any day.

I loved it, Tara liked it (but preferred Diana's dress), Jose escorted us through it and Leo ate his way through the English breakfast, slept his way through the wedding and scrunched his way through his Union Jack hat. Hurray to England, Royalty, Tradition and Extravagant Occasions! And a happy married life to the bride and groom.

I kiss my kids (her)

It's been nearly two years since Tara's last haircut and her hair's grown grown grown. Long long long, and she loves loves loves it. Me too. "I'll NEVER cut my hair," says Tara with conviction. So much hair, and so much love!


And then comes the weekend at the beginning of Spring on which Tara loses as much hair as seems reasonable in a month or two. A bit like a lamb. Or a cat. Or a dog. Except she's my kiddy and there's a history of hair loss in the family. So Jose and I brush her hair, remove enough hair from the brush to stuff a doll's cushion with, and exchange panicked glances over her fleeced looking head. (We freak out, actually.)

Remedy number one: The hair must come off. How do we sell that to a kid who loves her locks? Easily. Poor baby girl, so susceptible to brain washing and manipulation from mum and dad. For one week we bang on about how chic short hair is, and how mum and Tara must go get a twin hair cut. A few days later - lucky coincidence - Tara's friend Sophie has her hair cut, we add a twist of peer pressure / 'gotta have what she has' into the equation and we're there! A twin appointment for mum and Tara, asap.

SNIP SNIP

Snip snip, and don't we look a light year better and at least five years younger? Well, me anyway - Tara not quite, but she's cute either way. Preferably with hair on her head, not in the brush.

Meanwhile, Tara has different worries anyway. Said friend Sophie has cancelled their friendship, and Tara talks about it daily. This is what transpired (so I'm told): Tara and Sophie, then with long hair, were playing tag. Tara caught Sophie by the hair once. Then Tara caught Sophie by the hair again and received the stern warning that they could never be friends again if she (Tara) pulled her (Sophie's) long hair again, ever. But Tara caught her long hair again, accidentally, twice, that being four times in total and the end of all friendship.
Tara recounts the events leading to disaster for days, talks about apologising and feeling sorry, draws pictures of princesses holding hands and writes "Im sori Sofie" but never hands her card over.
I'm feeling very sorry for her but don't want to interfere. Should I? Should I?

KISS KISS (Mum kisses kid)

KISSSSS (Kid kisses back)

PS: I'm writing a month after the haircut. There's Tara, looking over my shoulder: "Ooooh, I loved my long hair! I want to have long hair again, all the way up to my bum! Mummy, I miss your long hair!" I've clearly neglected the post-hair cut brain wash maintenance.
On the positive side, no more hair loss since. (Is she a seasonally sensitive kitten after all?)

PPS: "Hey Tara, are you and Sophie friends again?" - "Yes! We copy each other again, and that means YES."

PPPS: Me, I needed a hair cut to look good for an interview re-applying to my employer to see if they wanted to let me keep my job. Rephrase: Efficiency reviews, job cuts, redundancies, the whole lot. It's a bit of a surprise I don't lose hair over it as well really. Anyway, I looked fab at the interview and got to keep my little job, joy all around.

Hair grows back, friends grow back, jobs grow back... good news all over.