Bridget's Huge Ratty Mat

Our cheerful home was dreadfully hushed, Each time my little sister’s hair was brushed. Bridget’s red hair was curly and thick, Taming her locks was no easy trick. Bridget hated to have her hair brushed, She’d scream and kick and cause such a fuss. She’d hold her breath and turn apple red. Buffy, her puppy, hid under the bed. It was a terrible time for everyone, But something simply had to be done. Mommy tried to make things better, She brushed it dry and she brushed it wetter. Daddy tried and I did too, But none of us knew just what we should do. Bridget didn’t think it was fair, And she didn’t want anyone brushing her hair. I wish I could say that someone came home, With a magical, golden, detangling comb. But it didn’t happen as simply as that, Bridget developed a huge, ratty mat. That mat was snarled and tangled up tight. We found it when she was in bed Friday night. Bridget was sleeping quite unaware. We knew we should wake her, but no one would dare. Saturday morning, trying to help, We applied mayonnaise and smelly sea kelp. Nothing we did helped the tiniest bit. Bridget sat sniveling and biting her lip. So we took her to Pierre’s snooty salon, And he put more smelly, goopy stuff on. Finally he threw his hands in the air, And seemed to be on the brink of despair. He said only one thing could salvage that mop, And I knew in my bones he was going to chop. I waited for Bridget to break down and cry, But I’ll never forget that look in her eyes. Bridget just swiveled around in her chair. She seemed to have total faith in Pierre. Pierre knew he had found his next work of art, But he made us all leave before he would start. So we took our cell phone and went to the mall, And an hour or so later, Pierre finally called. I felt somewhat nervous, yet anxious to see, Bridget with short hair? How weird could that be? One look at Bridget and no one could speak. She looked adorable, older, and chic. Pierre stood proudly with hands on his hips, And we left him a very generous tip. Bridget came home with new self esteem. Now that ratty old mat seems like just a bad dream. We’ll laugh about this someday when she’s grown. But for now we just leave a good thing alone. - I can't even see my toys!" Bridget sighed. She knew she needed a haircut but was too scared of the snipping scissors.

Bridget's mom suggested a trip to the hair salon. " - The scissors are too sharp! What if it hurts?" Bridget asked nervously. She imagined the scissors as a big, scary monster. Her mom tried to reassure her, " - It's just a little trim, sweetheart." But Bridget still felt anxious.

Bridget decided to try brushing out the tangles herself. " - Ouch!" she cried as the brush snagged in her hair. The more she tried, the worse it got. Soon, there was a bigger knot. " - This will never work," Bridget groaned, feeling defeated.

Bridget sat on her bed, feeling like giving up. " - I'll have to live with it forever," she mumbled sadly. Her toys seemed to frown at her from across the room. It felt like a hair-monster had taken over. " - Maybe I'll just hide it with a hat," she thought, feeling hopeless.

Then, Grandma called and shared a story about her own hair troubles. " - When I was little, I was scared too," Grandma said kindly. Bridget listened as Grandma explained how brave she felt after her haircut. " - You can be brave too, my dear," Grandma encouraged.

Bridget felt determined after talking to Grandma. She marched to the salon with her mom. " - I'm ready!" she declared bravely. The stylist gently cut away the tangles, and soon, Bridget's hair was soft and bouncy. " - I did it!" she cheered, feeling proud and courageous.