The fact that Madeline inherited my ginger gene makes me feel like there's an extra bond between us. It's like sitting next to a stranger in the cafeteria only to find that you're not the only weirdo in the world who eats peanut butter and mustard sandwiches. Kindred spirits!
It makes me happy and proud when strangers comment on the fact that she takes after her mother.
Yet, sadly for little Madeline, inheriting her Mumma's head of hair comes with some challenges.
First off, although my daughter is one-and-a-half years old, she still doesn't have much hair. What she does have is a beautiful shade of red, but it's scraggly long in some places while still sparse in others.
It used to look like this:
Then for a long time it looked like this:
Now, it's finally long enough to tease some itty-bitty ponytails out of it:
(Even with the ponytails, people still call her a boy because they are morons.)
Although Madeline's hair has finally started filling in, I'm not holding my breath for a full head of hair any time soon. When I was a baby, my hair looked like this:
Madeline probably has at least two more years of a her boyish locks until we need to worry about ribbons and bows.
Then somewhere around age eleven or twelve, her baby-thin hair will morph into the giant red triangle that I'm still trying to tame today.
Crazy hair? We gots it!
P.S. Eric has a pretty mean cowlick in his crazy hair, so Madeline's got that going for her as well.
Linking up with Toddle Along Tuesday this week at Growing Up Geeky.