Letting our Hair Down

Years ago my little boys and I were perched on a bench looking up at the turret of a Salzberg castle on a sunny summer day. It seemed the perfect time to tell them the story of Rapunzel. Being boys, they weren't that impressed. Little One, on the other hand, delights in princesses, castles, and stories told as well as read. Her imagination seems endless. When I told her the "Princess and the Pea" we piled up pillows for mattresses. And when I told her Rapunzel, we initially found long necklaces to stand in for the very famous braid. 

When Little One comes to my house all by herself, we have such fun. She has all kinds of ideas, including acting out stories over and over.  One day we used a bunch of my long scarves tied together to make "the braid." And the stairway was our turret. Over and over we played that game until I finally diverted her into something where Grandma could sit down for awhile. On an earlier visit I took her to my grandmother's cedar hope chest that sits at the end of our bed, thinking she could see a real braid. Inside are all kinds of family treasures including my braid from when I had my very long hair cut short at the age of 35. I'm not sure why I still keep it, but I think I forget it's there for years at a time. But Little One doesn't forget now. Of course she found it quite interesting. Every so often she'll say, "Let's have a look at your braid, Grandma," and she'll head for the hope chest, lift up the lid, and we'll have a look!