Ever since I gave birth to Charis, I had been anxious about this time. I knew her hair would keep growing and growing, and I knew that eventually, I'd have to graduate from doing her hair in pig tails (easy peasie) to a pony tail (lemon squeezie) to....
a french braid. I have dreaded this because, while my mother did fantastic french braids on my hair in my youth and my mother-in-law did all manner of braids on her two girls, I am fairly inept in the french braid department.
I started practicing my french braid technique when I was in my teens. When we'd visit with our family friends, Lucky and Dennis, I'd play with their young daughter's hair--thick, full, espresso brown hair that begged to be styled over and over. As I reflect on this, it is remarkable to me that she willingly sat still for this--now, trying to do even a simple pony tail on Charis involves bribery. I was successful in every sort of -tail imaginable, but the braid taunted me. I would try and try to weave her hair with my fumbling fingers, only to produce a tangled mess of many braids that I called a "Scotch Braid," which I pretended was an actual thing that someone would want to have done to their hair instead of what it was in reality--a gnarly, confused, elaborate knot on the back of her head that would require additional hours to comb out.
So, the other day, I thought it was high time, what with Charis' bangs being at prime eyeball-poking length, to not only try the french braid, but to try the double french braid--one braid down each side of the head. I was afraid it would be my Waterloo. I armed Charis with snacks and her Diego video (she calls him "'Eggo") and set to work, and I am proud to say that 15 years of practice have paid off! Here are some photos of the final product.