Side-Part(Geraldine Vesper) "Do you want a side-part or middle-part, sweetie?" the salon woman asked, yielding her trusty fine-tooth comb. This redundant inquirement was questioned every excursion to the local salon next to the McDonalds. Emily's accustomed remark was, "Middle-part, please." The phrase was halfway out of my mouth when Emily jubilantly replied, "Side-part, please."

I raised a baffled brow. What happened to that familiar declaration? The salonist snapped her chewing gum. "Sure thing, honey." My mouth was gaped in shock. The salonist began a simple part on the left side of her scalp.

"Wait!" I yelped. The salonist knitted her stenciled brows in confusion. "Yes, ma'm?" she asked in irritation. Emily stared at me with those youthful brown eyes. "What's wrong, Mommy?" I blushed. "I . . . erm . . .," I stammered. "Don't you usually like middle-parts, Emmy? I mean, you have done your hair that way since pre-school."

Why was I making such a stupid outburst? What was my true fear of a simple direction of hair parting? Was I possibly afraid of my daughter falling into the hands of urban trend? Was I succumbed to similiar paths?
As if reading my mind, Emily replied in her bubbly giggle, "I know, but I wanted to try new things. I get tired of the same old stuff every single day. It's like the ucky cereal you make Daddy eat. Sometimes, he wants to sneak bacon because he gets sick of cereal. It's good to different, Mommy."

I grinned. "You're right, Emmy. It is good to be different. Thank you for telling me that." The salonist drummed her fingers in aggravation. "Are we going to part the girl's hair or not?" I chuckled. "Side-part, if you will." I slide a crumpled twenty onto her work station. "Sorry, for taking your time." She fished the bills into her pocket. "Sure thing, lady!"

It took my seven and a half year old to teach a thirty-seven year old woman that change is good. "Can I dye my hair pink?" Emily giggled. "Nope." Well, almost all change is good.

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