Knotty Dotty

Dotty was a delightful little girl. She always ate her vegetables and cleared her plate without needing to be asked. She brushed her teeth and took a bath each night without complaint. She did her homework every day and helped out around the house. In fact, she did all of her chores and everything else that was asked of her. Well, almost everything.

There was one area in which Dotty was a little bit naughty. There was one thing she refused to do no matter how many times she was asked. Dotty never, ever brushed her hair. She loved listening to her parents and wanted to make them happy, but she would do whatever it took to keep her brush as far away from her hair as possible. She was very afraid of how much it would hurt to brush out the tangles.

Dotty’s parents insisted that her hair needed to be brushed every single day, but Dotty was a very clever little girl. She could always find a way to get out of brushing her hair.

Sometimes she would make an excuse and say something like, “My brush and my hair are very mad at each other today. They aren’t speaking and won’t go anywhere near each other.”

Sometimes she was able to distract her parents long enough to get out of the unwanted activity. “Mom, Dad, did you sign my permission slip for school? Can you check over my book report? I’m famished, can you make me some more breakfast? Oops, the bus is here, I have to go!”

Sometimes she wore a hat over her head to hide her mangled, tangled hair, and sometimes her brush would mysteriously disappear.

Sometimes she just got lucky. “It’s crazy hair day at school!,” She would tell her parents with a grin.

After so many days of getting away with not brushing her hair, her luck finally wore out. Dotty’s hair was getting to be impossible to deal with. Things were getting stuck in in, hats would no longer fit over it, and there were only so many bad hair days at school. One night at the dinner table her mother told her she would have to brush her hair before going to bed.

“But I helped set the table,” Dotty replied.

“And that was very sweet of you, but you still need to brush your hair,” answered her mother.

“But I ate all of my vegetables,” Dotty protested again.

“That’s good, and you’re going to grow up to be strong and healthy. But you still need to brush your hair,” said her father.

“I’m pretty sure I heard a little bird chirping in there earlier,” added her mother.

“But I-” Dotty started to say, but she was interrupted by her mother.

“No more excuses, Dotty. After dinner, we are going straight to your room to brush your hair.”

Dotty cried. She cried the rest of the way through dinner, she cried all the way to her bedroom, and she cried for the entire hour that it took for her mother to brush her hair. When they were finally finished, Dotty wiped the tears from her face.

“There, there,” her mother said. “Doesn’t that feel better?”

“Very much,” Dotty replied, running her fingers through her soft, smooth hair. “I think worrying about brushing my hair was worse than the pain of brushing it was.” She was a wise little girl.

“I think you’re right,” agreed her mother. “And if you brush it every day, it won’t hurt at all.”

And so she did. From that day forward, Dotty brushed her hair every single day. In fact, she liked it so much sometimes she would even brush it twice.