Sarah went to one over her classmate’s house yesterday.  I dropped her off at 3 PM and told her that she needed to be at our house at 5 PM. One of the nice parts about being here is that you just let your kids walk around town, and because it is small and safe they can come and go as they please.  At about 5:10 she was not home yet, so I went out on my bike to look for her. As I got to the intersection below our house, she came around the corner carrying her big backpack. On one glance of her face I saw that she had been crying. “What happened Sarah? Are you OK?” “I just wanted to come home,” she replied. “Why are you crying?” It wasn’t really that obvious as she had definitely tried to compose herself, but a parent can see pain in their kids immediately. “I don’t know, I just wanted to come home.” “Did something bad happen? Did you get in a fight?” I asked. “She combed my hair a really long time.” It turned out that her friend had decided that she wanted to play with Sarah’s hair and had combed it and combed it for at least an hour.  Sarah didn’t like it.  I asked her if she felt like she had been invited just so that the girl could play with her hair.  Sarah said “No” and that they had done other things initially, but then she started combing her hair incessantly.  We decided that next time she went over, she would go for only one hour (or less), and that she would be able to tell her friend “No, I don’t want my hair combed!” Sarah is the focus of much attention for her blonde hair. She has posed for many pictures for strangers and is told frequently how beautiful she is because of her hair. It might sound funny or fun, but really it is not her favorite part of being in Peru. She understands it and can laugh about it, but like it . . . not really.

Leave my hair alone!