Manic Panic

Mirabelle, who came home from Massachusetts this week with a defiant blue streak in her hair, seems to have finally hit those awkward teenage years. I’d like to say we didn’t wash it out because we’re cool like that, and happy to let the animal who lives with us express herself however she pleases. But the truth is that we’ve just been busy with other things. Which makes me wonder, now that I’m much closer to being a parent than a child and regularly wonder about how on earth one manages to launch even just an only somewhat sane person into this world, if this is actually a pretty good explanation for why a lot of parents do(n’t do) a lot of different things.