Mom’s friend had come home visiting, and for me, that meant meeting N after quite a long time. Well, a few weeks is indeed a long time in a five-year-old’s life (it still feels like an eternity if I badly want to meet someone). I was really excited. A playmate is always welcome.
Fourteen years is a long time, so I don’t remember every detail of our playdate that day. What I do remember though is our ‘Beauty Salon’ game. I had a set of tiny dolls, a gift from another of Mom’s friends. They were around five plastic figurines of little girls, each of whom had her hair in a curious shade: blue, green, maybe purple as well. We decided to give them a ‘makeover’. We tried giving them new clothes, though that wasn’t possible considering the little frocks were well-fit and stitched close to their plastic bodies. Not the ones to easily give up, we decided to glam up our gang of girls with some stylish haircuts.
The scissors were quickly sourced, probably from my toy/bookshelf, and soon little bits of funky coloured hair adorned the floor. Although never a child who enjoyed playing with human dolls, I along with my friend, was proud of the new hairdos we had given our girls.
We then decided to move on to our next game: ‘Pet Spa’. So our next (involuntary) client was a stuffed toy: the furry dog. We decided to give Mr Furry Dog’s coat a nice trim, with the vague aim of making all the strands of fur the same length.
By the time we had finished with Mr Furry’s trimming, it was time for N to leave. I bid her goodbye and returned to my room, but now I had a tingling feeling (of fear) near my ears (that’s how I used to feel as a child when I sensed trouble), as I wondered about the sensibility of our choice of ‘games’ that evening. The answer was not too far away, for a little while later, my mother came to ask me about our playdate, and saw remnants of our adventure on the floor.
She was shocked at what we’d done (I wasn’t usually a ‘destructive’ child) and even a bit disappointed at our foolishness. With a little admonishing from my mother, this is the lesson I learnt from that evening: “It’s okay to make mistakes, but remember, dolls don’t grow back their hair!”