I used to think I was pretty good at french braiding. Back in like 8th grade or something. My little sister Michelle used to always ask me to braid her hair for school. "Uhhhhhhh, I just braided it like two days ago," I'd have to say, since she was my little sister. But maybe I'd do it if I felt like being nice that day. Then one day a boy at school told her she looked like a dinosaur. Then she didn't want me to do her hair anymore. (Can I help it if my braids are a little bumpy)?

Last week, Olivia didn't want to get her hair done (just like every other day), but my Mom said, "Come here, let me put a French braid in your hair." Olivia, "No." My mom, "It's a really fancy braid, from a country far away." Olivia, "Okay."

So Olivia got her hair braided, picked some pink hair clips to go with it, and got mad at Jackson anytime he touched her hair for the rest of the day.

She had Nana braid her hair the next two days, then it was time for us to go home, and she wondered how she could ever have pretty hair again. "Guess what Olivia, I know how to do French braids, too."

So we did a French braid before church this morning. And this is what I got:

"Mom why don't you do it as good as Nana?"

"Nana does French braids way, way, way better than you, huh?"

"Why is this taking so long? Nana would have been done like 15 minutes ago."

Shush, my little stegosaurus.