Daddies don't do hair

Dad used a lot of straw for the pigs. On all that straw was a lot of twine. In fifth or sixth grade I took that twine and braided it into a big huge whip like the one Indiana Jones used.
My cousin Jason made fun of me when he caught me braiding the twine one day.
But I think it must have been good training. I'm not perfect by any means, but I can do my girls' hair if need be.
And every Sunday morning, I have too get them ready for church. The beautiful wife made the sacrifice shortly after Little sister was born of working weekends. She works Saturday, Sunday and Monday in exchange for being off four days a week. It's a pretty good deal, but she really misses going to church with us -- and helping get the girls ready on Sunday morning.
At first it was hard and we barely made it out the door on time to pick up grandma and grandpa.
But now we have it down to a science.
My alarm goes off, I hit snooze (OK, I hit snooze twice) and then I get Big sister dressed and do her hair. Somedays it's a simple pony tail, other days I have to curl it and help her put it up in or bun or some other hairstyle.
She really doesn't ask for much from me. In fact it was only recently that she even let me touch her hair.
But Little sister will let me try all kinds of things. I even figured out how to french braid. I still need some practice on that one. My fingers are just a little too big I think.
I get it done though and I have to think that my time making Indiana Jones bullwhips didn't hurt. Who knows, maybe somebody up there was helping me prepare for two little girls in my future.