Combing Through The Memories

When my sister and I were little, our grandparents babysat us while our parents were at work. One of my favorite things to do was play “beautician” with my grandpa’s hair while he watched the news and my sister took her afternoon nap. I would take his comb from his pocket, run to the sink to wet it down — for “hairspray” — and style his hair all sorts of ways; he would then go and model my work for my grandma.

One day, my sister didn’t want to nap, so my grandparents found a second comb and we took turns styling his hair. He modeled a few styles before it occurred to him that my sister was not tall enough to reach the sink to wet her comb. Grandma asked my sister where she got the water, but she refused to say. Grandma decided to follow her to see what was going on.

Sure enough, my sister was going to the bathroom, lifting the lid of the toilet, dipping the comb in the water, and closing the lid again. She immediately stopped my sister from doing Grandpa’s hair and told him what was happening. He jumped up and ran to the shower while Grandma tried to explain why toilet water was not an acceptable substitute for hairspray. They told my parents that evening and we all had a good laugh about it.

This was over 20 years ago. My grandpa has since developed dementia and often forgets the most basic things, but he always lights up and laughs when my sister offers to do his hair.