So my Mommy decided to partake in the last legal form of child abuse the other night and make me sleep with curlers in my hair. She told me that this is what Nana used to do to her every Saturday night as she was growing up, so she could look like "Nellie Olsen" from Little House On the Prairie the next morning at church. You would think that since she had been a victim of this cruelty in the past that she would be a bit more sympathetic, but I guess the memory of such torment does in fact fade as time goes by. Unfortunately, my agony was in vain. As you can see from the picture, my curls did not get very curly! Either I have inherited my Mommy's fine, lifeless, permanently stick straight hair, or she did something very, very wrong. She plans on asking my Aunt Heather, the guru of getting cute curls into my cousin Olivia's hair, for some advice for the next time. Wait a minute, there's going to be a next time!?! That bald sister of mine is so lucky...