"You look ugly."

"N's crying!" H yelled from the room.

"She's crying because you but your hair," said S.

I was sitting in front of the mirrow while my nine-year-old snipped my hair. She's taller than my ear. She's going to get glasses, and I trust her to actually cut my hair. I think I was in a 'I don't care' mood.

"She's crying because of my hair?" I asked.

People cry over spilled milk. My daughter cries over locks of hair lying helplessly on layers of old newspaper. My hair.

"You look ugly," she uttered earlier.

"I do? That's ok. It'll grow back," I said.

I never expected her to shed tears over it. Hubby lifted her and she scratched at him, head hanging.

"It's not that bad, N," said hubby.

She continued clawing at him. I continued cropping my hair, not really believing she was crying over how ugly I looked. No one could be that sensitive, could they?

"Ummi, you look Chinese," said H.

"Hi Chinese!" he exclaimed.

"You Chinese boy," said hubby.

"Is N still crying? Why is she crying?" I asked H and S.

"She's crying over her suwwa!" said H.

"No, she's crying because of Ummi's hair," protested S.

"You don't know. You're not close to her," she snapped at H, who was hanging upside down from the bunk bed.

I was sure I mouthed a silent 'wow' inside.

"Why you crying, N?" I asked her. Her blanket was wet. She had apparently been using it to wipe her tears. That much tears over my hair? Unbelievable! I tried to console her but she wouldn't respond, let alone look at me. I left.

"Ummi, I need tissue," said S.

"She's still crying?" I whispered to S.

"No, she's just sniffing."

I looked in the mirror. I never liked short hair, but I never thought someone else would feel so strongly about it.