I saw this in many parenting books: how the time a mother spends combing her daughter’s hair is a special time, where ideas are shared and feelings expressed. It’s a beautiful gesture of the intimate bond between mother and daughter. It’s a highly recommended activity that can be shared. Well, those authors never met my oldest. The kid HATE HATE HATES to have her hair touched, let alone washed or combed. I’ve seen my wife struggle for almost five years now. It’s never a quiet warm intimate moment; it’s a battle for survival. Screams, winces, knots, vows (“I’ll never let … Continue reading →