Get My Hair Did

Each Wednesday and Friday I pick up Ella from her daycare on Chicago's northwest side. This daycare differs greatly from Concordia University, the one she attends on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Concordia is a lab school where her teachers are masters prepared and the teaching assistants are working on their degrees in early childhood education. Ella gardens, learns about recycling and has access to all of the latest educational supports and theories. In contrast, her Chicago daycare is run out of a family's home. The children and staff are primarily Spanish speaking. She gets tons of TLC, makes paper plate art-work and comes home with the most intricate of hair styles. Stuff that would make Ken Paves and Paul Mitchell go back to beauty school. I'm amazed, because the kid won't sit still for me. Each morning I grab a brush, some pony tail holders and take a deep breath, ready to battle the will of a 2 1/2 year old with a tangled mess of bed-head. At Lucia's, she sits with the patience of Mona Lisa posing for Da Vinci. Hair parted, braided and up-doed to perfection. I'm starting to get the opinion that maybe she is running away from my eager hands as I simply do not have the talent. My simple pony tails are no match for the artistry of Lucia and her assistants. Guess my girl's got standards.