Apparently, as the saying goes everyone has at least one talent. Something they excel at and can use to show off at parties, on reality TV shows or even just around the home; some people even make a career from their talent. You know what my talent is? I’ll tell you that when I discover what it is, for the most part I am an average bloke and I cannot think of one single thing I excel in. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not particularly bothered by this, as I manage to make up for this by being average at many things as opposed to exceptional at just one thing.
If I can’t do something I will do my best to become average at it, any progress usually plateaus after this stage anyway and to be honest I am happy with that. It really boils my piss however, when I am unable to become average or even distinctly average at something. Plumbing and Singing are two things I’m totally shit at but I am completely at ease with this fact as I can get by in life without these skills, the one apparent skill I need which I am absolutely abysmal at is proving more of a hurdle – doing a Toddler’s hair.
I am utterly shite at doing the Jam-eater’s hair, like proper shite. Some days I’m sure the girls at Flo’s nursery can tell who has done Flo’s hair out of myself and Emma from how she turns up that morning. If I have one excuse I can use legitimately, it is that Flo has not been blessed with the thickest or well behaved hair. It would probably be easier to brush some candy floss into a respectable hairdo then to brave the Jam-eater’s barnet.
The other morning I was brushing her hair, which as usual was as tangled up about as much as the wires are behind your TV cabinet at this moment in time (yes, I’m looking at you!), the hair was brushed and then the bombshell was dropped ‘Please can I have a bobble in Daddy?’. The worst possible start to any day is that she needs a shitting bobble in her hair, seriously these motherfuckers are my Kryptonite. This is where my hair skills fall short of average and I dread the request but I can’t let my little girl down and I never will (as so long as no one gives her a mirror anyway)
Every time I try a ponytail or anything of the sort I must somehow channel a male vibe into the hair and the result is one of three styles of ponytail below.
The Nicklas Bendtner
This is the most likely hairstyle that occurs due to my crap hair skills and Flo’s flyaway barnet. It must be horrible to have to go out in public with the hair of a crap footballer, although it could be worse, she could always go for the Kevin Keegan Perm.
The Ned Stark
Winter is coming, which means luckily we can put a hat on the Jam-eater to hide this particular hair do. This is the deceiving one as it usually never looks like this until you meet someone in public then you realise you have a girly toddler version of the ‘Hand of the King’ by your side. Its not worth losing your head over though.
The Enzo Amore
This last one is usually the end of day hairstyle for Flo. No matter what you do in the those damn male vibes which went into her hair on the morning when I did her hair evolves into that of Enzo Amore, a professional wrestler with the WWE. To be honest a full blown Jam-eater tantrum can look about as convincing as a match at WrestleMania.
I end this post with a heartfelt plea to any hairdressers who read this. Please provide some Toddler hair styling lessons to teach us Dads how to master this particular skill, the only alternative I can think of is to use the vacuum cleaner to pop her hair into a ponytail (thank YouTube for that one) but to be honest I can’t see that ending particularly well.