There is something very peculiar about wanting to write about one thing (Pasadena! sunburns! good food!), but then being scheduled to write about something else entirely. Or maybe that's not peculiar. Maybe that's just the way it works out. Anyway, I hope you'll forgive the juxtaposition of my being in Pasadena with a review (OH! I saw the musical Wicked! It's amazing, and, and...I'll have to tell you all about it later...).
Here we go.
PS: I'm writing this review while I'm listening to the soundtrack from Wicked. So, if my sentences start meandering about no one mourning for the wicked, you know why.
Once upon a time, there was a little princess who had the most beautiful hair. Everywhere she went, the townspeople commented on her blond, curly hair. "What beautiful hair you have, little girl," they would say. The princess, while sometimes a shy one, learned to say "Thank You" because that was the kind of good behavior that was expected of princesses. Surliness is definitely not princess behavior.
The princess's mother was fortunate to have been gifted with a certain kind of knowledge that it takes to manage such curly hair. No shampoo, only conditioner. No brushes, only wide-toothed combs. No hair dryers, only air drying. Scrunch with fingers; hair products on special occasions. Once dry, hands should be kept out of the hair or the wicked frizzies would terrify the sweet princess.
As it happens so often with hair, the princess could not always control it. Try as she might, hairbands would fall out. Headbands hurt her head. Hair clips would slide away until they too fell out. Rubberbands were wonderful, but only if she was in the mood for "piggies" or "ponies." What to do to keep the hair out of her eyes?
The little princess and her mother fretted about, trying to find ways to keep the curly hair in place. Then one day, there was a knock at the door. "Who could it be?" wondered the princess's mother.
"Maybe," said the princess, "it's ice cream!"
In fact, it wasn't ice cream.
It was, however, a gift from another maiden of the village. Maiden America had sent the little princess beautiful barrettes that wouldn't slip, and wouldn't slide. They would stay put, no matter how fine her hair was, and how fuzzy curly it might be.
The princess was overjoyed to see such beautiful barrettes. Green ones! Pink ones! White ones with swarovski crystals! Each barrette made perfectly so that it would stay in the princess's hair. The princess insisted on two non-matching barrettes in her hair, which was evidently the fashion among the toddler set. She could put them in herself, although she did have to have some help from her mother to get them out.
The mother was relieved to find a solution to the hair-in-eyes dilemma, and spread the good news in the village that there was a perfect barrette for every little princess, whether she had straight or curly hair, long or short. (Although the hair couldn't be too short, as happened to be the case with the princess's tiny sister who still didn't have enough hair for barrettes to adorn her head.)
The delivery was swift, the production of barrettes American-made. The cost was small enough to be affordable, though big enough to make the princess and her mother sad when the apple-green barrette was lost. As the sun set in the distance, the princess rejoiced that Maiden America had created such lovely gifts and shared them with the people.
And as every good story should end...
...they all lived happily ever after.
This review brought to you by Parent Bloggers Network.
I'm flying back from Pasadena today, so pictures of my SoCal adventures will be forthcoming.
(c) Creature Bug 2008. All rights reserved.