My Hair Has A Plan UFLI Foundations Lesson 117

Each day, Grace stands at her mirror with a big grin on her face. 'Hi, hair,' she says. 'What is the plan today?' Her hair has no voice, but it always has a plan. A few clips, a good brush, and whoosh, she is set for the day.

In the summer, Grace's hair goes up. Way, way up high. It blocks out the sun like a huge umbrella. Grace sips a cold drink with bits of ice in the shade, while Rex pants next to her in his tiny shades. 'Such a lucky pup,' Grace tells him with a wink.

In the fall, Grace runs and runs. Her hair flies behind her like a big wave full of pink flowers and leaves. It fills the path from edge to edge. Rex races to keep up, leaping over rocks and sticks. But no dog can outrun that hair.

In the winter, Grace needs no scarf at all. She wraps her hair right around her face and walks into the cold, soft snow. She is cozy, not cold at all. Rex shivers next to her with a cold pink nose. 'Sorry, Rex,' she says softly, 'but there is hair for just one of us.'

Then one day, Grace decides on a big change. She cuts it all off, short. She thinks short hair will be simple, and it is, but simple is not always best. Rex keeps looking up at her as if to say, 'Where did it go?' Grace waits a long year, from one birthday to the next, for her hair to grow back.

When it grows back, Grace lies down in the grass and lets her hair spread out around her like a soft blanket. She shuts her eyes in peace. Tiny bugs walk up her arms, saying hi. Rex curls up next to her, gentle and snug. 'We are back,' Grace says with a smile on her face.

This time, Grace has the chance to go big. On dress-up day in class, she shapes her hair into a perfect square, with pink and green clips all over the place. Rex stares up as if he has never seen a square in his life. 'It is called style, Rex,' Grace says. He does not look sure.

Grace's hair is a tool box too. When she draws on her paper, she pokes every pencil and crayon right into her thick curls. Need blue? Grab it from the left side. Need yellow? Check the back. Then Rex pokes his head out from deep inside her hair. He has been hiding in there all this time, and Grace did not even notice him.

Sometimes, Grace's mom says her hair looks just like a strange bird's nest. So Grace thinks, what if it really is a nest? In her daydream, tiny bluebirds make a nice home up on her head, and Rex perches up there too, as happy as can be. A walking birdhouse with feathers and chirps! Mom does not say no to the plan. She just walks away very, very slowly.

On windy days, Grace's hair flies straight out behind her like a giant flag in the breeze. Kids on the street stop and stare with big, wide eyes. Grace and Rex lean right into the wind, side by side, like they own the place. And they really do.

At bedtime, Grace's mom sits her down and gently brushes out each tangle in her hair. She adds headbands, pins, and bright bows with lace, humming a tune. Rex creeps in from behind the curls, peeking out with those big brown eyes. He wants a bow too. Mom always gives him a tiny one.

Will Grace ever cut her hair short again? No way. Long hair makes every day feel like her birthday. And Rex? He sticks close, sniffs the flowers tucked in her curls, and wags his tail. The flowers look like they grew there on purpose. Grace smiles a huge smile. Even the garden wants to copy her.