Would you think me silly if the new Marissa makes me a bit mournful inside? Even makes me a bit teary-eyed to realize she's growing up? Because it does. The pile of blond tresses on the floor of the salon invoking in me a different sort of sadness--one I hadn't known before. It was a haircut that needed to happen after two years of much sun and swimming, her hair definitely needed some new life brought to it. And she'll probably even grow it long again. But still, it's another step in leaving little girl-dom behind. She's happy and jubilant, fluffing her new 'do in the mirror. Isabella feels the autonomy it represents, now needing a short style of her own. And I recognize it as being one of those bittersweet moments. Why can't they just stay little forever?