The Dandelion Girl
When I was a very young child my dad affectionately called me his favourite dandelion. Well, dandelion head actually.
Why?
Because I have ultra fine, fly-away baby hair. Hair that, even on the best of days, forms a static-induced halo that obviously resembles a dandelion when it’s gone to seed (not that for a split second did I think my dad thought I had inadvertently gone to"seed"). And so, for most of my formative years I was a dandelion to my father and, occasionally, when I was behaving, a little angel to my mother. A mother who spent countless hours spit-smoothing my hair into place, or worse, wetting a small wooden comb she carried in order to try tame my wild hair.
And yes, even today, my hair is still short, blond, and prone to floating around my head in a halo of fluff.
I guess I am and will always be, forever a dandelion.