Every morning I face a battle.
It doesn’t need to happen.
In fact, there is a very clear winner of the battle.
And yet, there isn’t.
This battle is a constant one from September-June.
I want to let the winner win.
But that would lead to defeat inevitably.
So I take my hair tie
And I attack the mop on my head.
Because hair left down in kindergarten will almost definitely end up with lice.