Tuesday I had the pleasure of having my eight year old granddaughter, Jas, spend the day with me. After a morning of riding bikes, pulling weeds and watching Sponge Bob reruns, we headed off to Jas’s favorite Chinese barfette for lunch. On the way she told me a deep dark secret.
“Gwanma” she says, as I am driving the car through traffic. “Gwanma, I’m going to have to go to a dermatologist when I’m a teenager.”
“Why?” I ask. “Does your mommy think you are going to get pimples?”
“No”, she says, “I have male pattern baldness.”
At this point I almost rear-ended the car in front of me. Later, when we were seated at our favorite table, I looked at her hair really close. Hmmm… ‘still nice and thick’ I thought to myself. So I had to ask. “Why do you think you have male pattern baldness?”
“Shhhhh….” She said quickly. Then she lowered her head and whispered in my ear “My mommy says if any more hair comes out on my brush I am going to need a wig before I go to high school.”
Instead of a College Fund, maybe I should start a Wig Fund for her?