G is trying to grow her bangs out again. She's had them ever since her front hair finally grew enough to put an end to the Friar Tuck look she was sporting for the first year or so of her life, and she's tried to grow them out at least five times with no success. They usually get to about mid-ear-length before either she or I can't take it anymore and shrieks "CUT THEM! AAAUUUGH!" Right now they're just long enough that they can't be allowed to hang free, but still several inches away from being long enough to blend into the rest of her hair.
It doesn't help that she's also reached the awkward stage that afflicts all kids sooner or later -- the one where they're too tall to be little and cute, and their front teeth are three sizes too big for their faces, and they usually have ink/marker stains on their hands and are all sweaty and dirty from some activity or other. Add messy hair on top of that, and you've got one disheveled-looking child. Now I know why my mother was always chasing me with a brush and a handful of barrettes when I was G's age. Obviously I think G is beautiful no matter what, but sometimes I despair of her ever being tidy again.