Tangled

Wild Thing is not keen on hairbrushes.

Every morning the battle begins afresh.

We spent 10 agonising minutes of thrashing limbs, wailing, rolling eyes and bared teeth to temper the prodigious thicket that sprouts from her noggin.

Only for her to deftly run her (constantly) sticky fingers through my hard work and Hey Presto! The haystack's back.

Some things are born to be wild. Untemperable.