Today was the first day of school, and my friend NAME_1 
had a new haircut. It looked so cool. 
When I got home, I asked my mom for a haircut, and 
I told her exactly how I wanted it. I asked her, very 
politely, “Could you please do it today?”
Sadly, she was busy. She told me that it takes a long 
time to cut hair. “First, you have to take a bath so 
that your hair is wet. Then, you have to brush it out 
really well,” she said. My face dropped as my mom 
continued. “Finally, when 
you cut, you have to use 
special scissors, and cut 
very gently so that 
everything is even…” Her 
voice trailed off. 
“You need to be very careful and get it just right. If 
you make a mistake, you can’t glue the hair back 
on,” she said, laughing. I didn’t think it was very 
funny.
“Maybe I can cut it for you on the weekend,” she 
told me. 
I went back to my room and looked at my hair in the 
mirror. It was way too long, and I didn’t want to go 
back to school looking like this. 
I thought about what Mom had told 
me. She said to take a bath first, but I 
already took one this morning. Then 
she said to brush my hair, so I gave it 
a quick brush. Mom had said to use 
special scissors. I got my school 
scissors out of my desk. If they could 
cut paper, they could cut hair!
I looked in the mirror again and paused. Mom’s 
comment that “you can’t glue it back on again” 
made me worry a little. I decided to cut off just a 
little hair. 
Snip. Snip. Snip. I watched some hair float to the 
floor. I looked in the mirror, and one side was shorter 
than the other.
Snip. Snip. Snip. I looked again, but now the other 
side was shorter!
Snip. Snip. Snip. It was still wrong.
Snip. Snip. Snip. I kept trying to fix things, 
but the more I cut, the more lopsided 
and crooked my hair became. I 
started to cry.
Mom walked in. She looked at my new 
haircut. She shook her head and didn’t 
say anything. I don’t like it when she 
doesn’t say anything.
“Are you mad because it's ugly?” I asked. 
“No, I’m disappointed because you were not patient. 
I am disappointed that you did not wait for me,” she 
replied.
I went into the bathroom and took a bath. My mom 
brushed my hair out, then clipped gently with her 
special scissors. It wasn’t perfect, but it was much 
better. My mom smiled as she combed my hair one 
last time. 
“All good things come to those 
who wait,” she said.
