Ding dong, the doorbell rang. I ran to the door, it was my first play date. In came another kindergartener, her face as red as a sunburn. We both ran to each other and gave a hug. Sarah and I darted upstairs to play a game, makeover. My parents had just left to pick up my brother, so we were home with grandma.

“Where do you wanna go Sarah?,” I asked.
“Anywhere there’s a ton of makeup,” She responded.
“I have just the place,” I responded.

I lead the way into my parents’ bathroom for shampoo and makeup. My shampoo bottle was too hard to reach, the granite counter tops towering over me, it was placed on the far lefthand corner with the other bottles. There was nothing to step on. I saw a huge pile of laundry on the floor and attempted to crawl on top. But, it only collapsed, throwing me onto the floor.

Sarah said, “Twinkle, look, I found another shampoo bottle”, as she pointed at a bottle my dad used. It lay on the ledge of the bathtub.
“You have great eyes,” I responded. “I can give you a great makeover now!”

She sat on the ledge of the bathtub. I washed her hair and sprayed shaving cream all over her head. This was how they did it when I got my haircut. I really felt like a true hairdresser. 

“This shampoo is so fizzy, I like it,” I said.
Sarah got up and looked to the mirror next to the bathtub.
“Is it supposed to look this way, Twinkle? My dad uses this for his beard. This isn’t shampoo, Twinkle. Get it off!,” she responded.

She jumped off the ledge and into the shower. She tried to wash it off in the high power of water, but it didn’t seem to work. She came back and sat inside the bathtub, soaking wet and helpless. I rinsed her hair. It wasn’t helping and we didn’t know what to do. My parents were going to come home soon and we were going to get in big trouble.

We both looked at each other and yelled “Haircut time”. There was no way this was getting out, and an inch cut wouldn’t make a difference.

I grabbed a pair of scissors from the lower right drawer by the counter.
“Sit still Sarah!,” I yelled. I hesitated for a second, but I continued to measure her hair to make sure I only got an inch off.
“Hurry up Twinkle!,” she yelled.
Snip Snip, away went her long luscious hair.
“How does it look,” she asked.
“Um, I don’t know, it looks kinda good.” I hesitantly said.
Her hair went from as straight as a ruler to uneven fringes on the side of notebook paper. Some pieces were long and some were short.
“What’s up with the loud noise,” said my grandma, as she walked up the stairs and into the bedroom.

Footsteps grew louder and louder. There was nothing we could do. As she walked in and made eye contact with us, her jaw dropped open. She walked to the counter top and grabbed the shampoo and threw Sarah into the bathtub. Grandma washed her hair and all I could see were tiny pieces of hair falling down. My mom was going to kill me.