Drying your hair.
Tonight, it is different, Drying your hair.

My heart, it is breaking, while you just sit there.

This is so normal, you really don’t see

What’s different about sitting up on my knee.
I comb it. And where you would usually cry, 

You don’t, you’re distracted and I wonder why

This troubles me suddenly, makes my heart hurt?

“That’s my big girl” I say, and that’s when I start.
I turn on the hairdryer, and then they begin

And for each strand that dries, another tear wins.

I’m sobbing, and sobbing, I let them pour down,

You stare at the telly, snug in your nightgown.
Completely oblivious to the mess right behind you,

Who struggles to breath as your hair falls around you.

It’s shiny and finished, but I keep on drying

Glad that you haven’t yet noticed me crying.
The comb puts in order the long strands of gloss,

Mummy puts in order her feeling of loss,

For while I am proud of you every day,

I know that a baby, you simply can’t stay.
I turn off the dryer and dry up my tears.

I cuddle you tightly and whisper in your ear.

“Your hair is so pretty and I love you so”,

You smile and hug tighter and answer “I know”.
So, drying your hair it was different this time

And yes, I’m being silly, I know you’ll be fine.

And while you’ll soon want to dry your own hair maybe,

You’ll always be this Mummy’s Beautiful Baby.