Join us in mourning, friends.
Share your grief, shed your tears, say your goodbyes.
I have the unfortunate responsibility of letting everyone know that we experienced a loss in the Shove family recently. Under a weighty responsibility to friends, family and fans from across the globe, it is my duty to confirm the occurrence and put the rumors to rest:
The Rattail is gone.
It started out so humbly, The Rattail (yes, caps intended). There was our sweet little girl, only a few weeks old when her hair got a mind of its own, growing this way and that without care for propriety. It happened so suddenly yet lasted so long, and quickly her hair became the favorite topic of conversation amidst E.V.’s admirers. Ryan was forced to pass the torch of hairdo-debate down to his daughter with a knowing smile and a single tear in his eye. It’s a job all fathers must face at some point in their lives, but for Ryan, he never expected it to happen so quickly; to him I say, “Let the generations that come after us rise up at their own pace, and be glad for that day.”
Between The Mohawk and The Bald Spots, though, The Rattail took a back seat for a while. It was an afterthought, a comment made only after oohing and ahhing about the craziness of the rest of E.V.’s hair. Over time, though, The Rattail gained its own momentum, garnering its own attention and building its own fan base. It was the dark horse in this race to fame, unexpectedly outwitting and outlasting both The Mohawk and The Bald Spots. As the months passed, it kept its course, and as The Bald Spots filled in and The Mohawk bent under the weight of its own ambition, The Rattail gained momentum. The tortoise caught up with the hare, and in the end, it seems, crossed the finish line first to the cheers and applause of onlooking admirers.
But then, within the last few weeks, The Rattail gained an ego, overstepped its boundaries and entered territories it had promised never to go–and my heart began to change. Perhaps it’s time to say goodbye to The Rattail, to rid ourselves of it before it gets too high and mighty (or, rather, “low and lengthy”)? In my heart, I knew it was time. Ryan pleaded with me, arguing that The Rattail would one day soon blossom into a great and noble ponytail, that cutting it off in its fragile youth would be a travesty, a loss that the world would not so easily recover from. However, the time had come, and I was ready to bear the burden.
Heavy is the hand that holds the golden scissors.
And so it was finished, the terrible and necessary thing. In the aftermath, Ryan has mourned the loss of a much-admired love; Emma Vance has grieved the loss of a dear and close confidant; but, me? I have suffered much more. The nightmares, the haunting sense of duty versus honor…it’s all too much to comprehend. Here, though, I make my amends, standing by my decision, saying goodbye to a once-beloved friend, and ushering in a new era. An era of fortune, happiness, and pretty hair.
To The Rattail, I say one final goodbye.
To Ryan, I beg you to please forgive me in time.
To Emma Vance, my sweet Emma Vance, I leave you with this–you’re welcome. :)
|(It’s all fun and games until someone brings out the scissors…)
|“Hey! What the…”
|“Where are you going with my rattail, Mom?”
|(Ryan made sure to bind up her first curl very well to add to her keepsakes. Sweet guy.)
I think she forgave me rather quickly, although she did try to pull out my earring in retaliation, or should I say “rattailiation.”
She needed a little toy therapy after all that build up…