My youngest daughter has long, naturally blonde hair. I’ve read somewhere that blondes have more hair. That must be true, because my daughter’s blond hair is everywhere. It’s in the car, on the furniture, on the clean clothes I hang to dry, on the beds, on the floor, tangled around animals, and stuck in my sweatshirt sleeves and pajamas. I can’t be suspicious of my husband when he comes home from work with a long blonde hair stuck on his shoulder. It probably hitched a ride there all day.

You would think for all the blonde hair floating around that my daughter walked around the house with a mirror brushing out her hair like a princess in a Disney movie. It’s not like that really. I think she only brushes her hair once a day after her shower and then never touches it again all day. I’ve come to think of it like a pixie spreading dust or a dog marking its territory. Because of the random blonde hair smuggling a ride on our clothing, she is thought of several times a day.

Whenever I think of her, I am surprised I have a blonde, green-eyed child. I have dark hair and brown eyes and so do my parents and sister. She gets her looks from her father, he’s of the Viking stock, but it still never fails to surprise me when I observe her blonde hair.

I’m always after her to keep sunscreen on and make sure she doesn’t spend too much time in the sun. I am the same with my older daughter who is my blonde’s total opposite with her dark hair and eyes. But from my observation of my older daughter, she does not burn as easily as my younger daughter.

Along with her blonde head comes her translucent skin. This makes her a favorite among insects. If the family was sitting together in a line and actually gave the insects a choice, they would always choose my youngest. She must be sweet for the biting. On top of her sweetness, she reacts badly to insect bites. She gets swollen and puffy in the area she was bitten.

So picture us in the summer. Big, tall, Viking, blonde father with red beard, followed by tall, brunette daughter, followed by tall, but smaller blonde daughter, followed by shortest mother-person smearing sunscreen and bug spray on blonde daughter, while blonde daughter is batting her away. What a picture!

It’s the one problem summer gives me: how to protect my blonde from bugs and the bright orb in the sky.  She hates sunscreen and bug spray as much as she hates bugs, but I’m the mama and I’m insistent.

I feel as if I wasn’t given the manual on how to raise a blonde child. If I had been blonde or had a blonde sibling, I may feel more comfortable with the task, but I really feel as if I’m going to mess her up.

I believe my older sister was born a blonde and lost her blonde locks as she got older. I wasn’t around for that portion of her life, so I’ve still got nothing. And as my blonde is now thirteen, I haven’t even got the hope of her hair changing color.

I don’t think either of my kids has ever had a horrible sun burn. In that I rejoice and pat myself on the back for my sunscreen diligence. But I know we can only raise them to the best of our ability and then it’s up to them to carry on from there. Fortunately, my blonde hates bugs and hates getting hot, so there is not a high likelihood of her becoming one with nature.

Now I must excuse myself. I have a blonde hair to remove.