Supermodel called me last night.
"I can't run with you tomorrow," she said. "[Mr. Supermodel] is taking me away tonight for our anniversary. It's our 20th!"
I naturally told her not to worry and to have a fabulous time. I'd be fine running by myself. We chatted a little longer, then I realized she wasn't just calling me to tell me I'd be running alone. She had a little favor to ask.
"Supermodel Jr. [Supermodel's 3-year-old daughter] has pictures tomorrow morning in her dance class. I don't think my mother-in-law can do her hair. You said you've always wanted a little girl..."
I have three sons and can hardly do my own hair. My personal hair requirements are 1) simple - no layers, and 2) long enough to pull back in a ponytail so I can wear a baseball hat. Supermodel assured me it would be easy to put Supermodel Jr.'s hair in two, low ponytails, BUT they had to be curly. She gave me instructions on how to do this with water and simple finger twisting.
I arrived at Supermodel's house this morning. Her lovely mother-in-law had already ponytailed Supermodel Jr.'s hair. The ponytails weren't curled though. They NEEDED to be curled because the little dancers are all SUPPOSED to have curled hair. The ponytails were... frizzy. My heart was pounding.
Did I mention Supermodel's mother-in-law is Portuguese and speaks NO English? Did I mention I speak ONLY English?
Portuguese mother-in-law proudly gestured to the ponytails. I smiled stupidly, nodded in an over-exaggerated manner and said, "Pretty!" very loudly. I called Supermodel.
"Sorry to bother you, but your mother-in-law did the hair. The part's crooked and the ponytails are frizzy. It's not a tight job." I was smiling and nodding at the mother-in-law while speaking. She smiled back.
Supermodel said, "Go in the bathroom, there's a spray bottle. Re-do her ponytails and wet her hair so you can fix the curls."
"Not comfortable with that... not at all. [Still smiling and nodding at mother-in-law.] I'll hurt her feelings. She's so proud. I'll do it at my house. I've gotta go. I'm gonna be late."
I raced home, grabbed a brush and a comb and was humbled by my inability to get Supermodel Jr.'s hair styled in two, low, tight ponytails. It took several tries and I felt like a fat-fingered-man. It was as good as it was going to get. I sat her on the counter by the kitchen sink.
"Honey, can you please lean waaay over the sink so I can get your ponytails wet? Then I can curl them!"
She didn't trust what I was doing, and was worried about getting her "pretty costume" wet. I followed Supermodel's instructions. One ponytail curled in a ringlet, the other one was wavy, no matter what I did. I tried my best.
And another thing? Supermodel Jr. was supposed to be in the tutu OR the shiny pants. Not both of them.