Shearing day

Again, things pile up, on Monday, it was my daughter's hair-cutting ceremony, a Mongolian rites-of-passage that signifies the child's progression from being a baby.  Given the ructions over washing her hair, I had real concerns how Kimberley would react; however, her vociferous protests and ferocious anguish over the wetting of her hair had died down in recent days, perfectly timed for the event to take place.
It can only occur when the child is in their first or third year (or every odd year after that) - Mongolians count the actual birth as their first birthday (reasonable enough) and so for them, it is when the child is one or three.  Kimberley was born with an extensive barnet and her hair had inevitably grown considerably in the last two and a half years - left to hang down, it was around about her diaphragm.  From my point of view, it was a shame in a way to shear that off but I had negotiated with my wife that it wouldn't all be shaved off.  Twins of some friends of ours, who had their ritual hair-cutting around about the same age, said they hated their 'boy' haircuts.
Hair-cutting can only be done on certain days and Monday 17th August 2015 was a doubly special day through alignments in the lunar calendar.  Altaa, I and my sister-in-law took turns to cut off a snippet (or a little more than a snippet) of the locks, then my parents, sweetened for Kimberley on each occasion by the donation of money and presents.  Altaa kept her family in Mongolia informed through numerous texts and posts and Altaa's sister was also on hand to help supervise.  We then all had a traditional Mongolian lunch.  Later, Mongolian friends (and significant others) of ours came round for dinner and they too snipped further sections away.  It generally concluded around the normal bedtime for Kimberley which was ideal.
Kimberley is quite at ease with her shortened mane, her new look drifting along her shoulders like bullrushes in a river brushing the earthen bank.  Although her personality is the same, it is a striking change enough to make me perceive as different, though still loving.  The hair removed was less than even I had thought it would be however and though it is not a mess, I suppose that gives more for the hairdresser to play around with on the imminent trip there.