Hair Magic

B used to color his hair. He was black and beautiful when we first met.

Since moving in, and my telling him I thought his salt and pepper was sexy, he has stopped seeing a colorist. 

Two months ago he was looking a bit pale and in need of some oomph, so I suggested a bit of color might do him good. He was completely game. 

Instead of black we bought dark-brown-in-a-box (more in line with his natural color). Clairol for men, who knew? I've never colored my hair from a box so it was all new to me. It was messy but easy and he looked gorgeous after a rinse and style. 

So last Saturday, B had his hair cut and when he came home, was ready for a color touch-up. I told Biddy I was going to color daddy's hair and asked if he wanted to help.

He excitedly exclaimed, "Yes!"

Biddy then ran to his desk where his art supplies are stored and got his yellow magic marker and ran back to B. Pulling his pant leg indicating he wanted B to bend, he said, "Daddy, I color your hair. I color your hair." He had already pulled off the cap and was ready to paint.

B obligingly bent down allowing Biddy to color. A sweet moment that took some effort to erase from B's scalp and forehead.