Sarah was taking a bath when I heard, "Mom! Come quick! It hurts!"
I ran up the stairs to discover that Sarah had taken a comb and somehow managed to "weave" it through her hair.
I did what any right-minded woman would do. I consulted my husband. He took one look at it, shook his head, and said, "I have no idea what to do."
So I did what I should have done in the first place. I called my mom. She immediately came running over. (It is very, very nice to live right next door to your mother.)
She calmly assessed the situation and got to work. But after spending 5 minutes working to remove the comb and only loosening a few strands, she said, "We need to cut this comb out. Ask Dan to get some tools."
So Dan brought up several tools and he ended up cutting parts of the comb out of her hair, unweaving parts of the hair, cutting more of the comb, unweaving more of the hair.
Wash, rinse, repeat, and repeat, and repeat....
The whole process took about 45 minutes. But I think I can thankfully say, not a hair was lost!
Sarah, of course, wasn't as grateful as we were. She didn't realize how close she came to going to school with a black comb in her hair for the next 6 months and then getting bangs.
She complained that I wasn't kind enough to her during the whole ordeal.
I tried to explain the concept of making your bed and laying in it but that just went right over the top of her comb.
If you know Sarah in real life, please do not mention this to her. She would probably be mad at me for posting this. She really is 7 going on 13. And I can already hear her when she's 15 saying, "Remember that time you posted about that comb on your blog? You have ruined my life Mother!" (Because when she is yelling at me in my imagination, she always call me Mother.)