Unlike many fathers who become expert hairstylists for their daughters—or sons, if it applies—my adventures with hair have been, well… minimal. And I’ll admit, a small part of me has always felt embarrassed by it.
For some reason, I never really got into it. Was it growing up with three sisters? Did I quietly accept that hair styling wasn’t my talent? Or did it simply require a patience I could never muster? Ultimately, none of that really matters. What matters is how hair, in its own funny, messy way, became a bridge between my daughter and me—and how the coronavirus pandemic brought that full circle.
Recently, while cleaning out our basement, we came across a mannequin head I bought years ago to practice different hairstyles. I thought I’d be ready to meet every one of her requests. Instead, it mostly became a prop for laughs rather than a tool to help me navigate long hair.
It probably goes without saying, but many men simply never grow long hair—so proficiency is rare. This mannequin was as far as my skills ever stretched, and honestly, it was a front-loaded attempt at best. I tried!
I pride myself on meeting my daughter’s needs, even those traditionally handled by a mother. Any parent—especially a single one—wants to broaden their skill set to give their child what they desire, whether or not it comes naturally. But hair styling? Just. Can’t. Do.
Looking back at our old photos, I can’t help but laugh. Her hair often looked outrageous. Shampoo, dry, brush—that was about it. Every once in a while, I’d jam a barrette in there, or if she felt less than fabulous, she’d throw on a headband. Simple, honest, and real.
I’ll never forget one particular moment. On a four-hour train ride home from New York City, she asked me to braid her hair. I knew the steps in theory but had never tried it on her. I fumbled, struggled, and somehow got through it. Then she asked me to take a picture and show her. In her tiny, excited voice, she said, “That’s really good, Daddy. I’m proud of you.” That was my first—and last—real styling attempt. Maybe it sticks with me because it was our singular father-daughter hair moment. I went out on top.
As she grew older, the “air dry and done” method no longer cut it. Her mom would do high ponies, pigtails, fancy braids—and Dad? Well, I was still embracing the do-nothing approach. Frustration mounted, and sometimes it led to tears.
I’ll admit, part of me was ashamed. I couldn’t motivate myself to learn. I could manage a mediocre ponytail, but nothing special. My solution: she needed to learn to do it herself. Selfish? Maybe. Encouraging independence? Absolutely. Either way, it was time for a solution that would end the tears.
So, I reached out to women in my life. What tips could I gather quickly and practically? The internet was overwhelming; I needed simple, fast, kid-friendly guidance. Their advice poured in: “Lay upside down on the bed.” “Hold the hair tie this way.” “A detangler really helps.” We tried everything, and finally, it clicked. I’ll never forget the first time she styled her own hair. She was elated, and it felt as though she appreciated me more for teaching her than doing it myself. Small wins, but big victories for a single dad.
This is just one example of the challenges single parents face. But it’s okay. Being the world’s greatest hairstylist doesn’t define success as a parent. Children will encounter frustrations from split households, so patience and creativity matter more. For me, I became the “hair coloring parent”—brush on some dye, mix a little creativity, and voilà! She loved it, and I didn’t mind at all. Win-win.
But the best moments? They came from letting her play with my hair. At two years old, she would brush my hair to “make me pretty,” smearing a little lipstick (most of it missing my lips) and laughing herself silly. When I let my hair grow wild, she’d grab a hair tie and giggle at the chaos. Those were pure, joyful moments.
Recently, the pandemic gave us one final, magical hair adventure. With my hair unruly, I let her go wild—cutting, tying, and even dyeing it bright pink. The pictures tell the story better than words: her excitement, my ridiculous hair, and our laughter captured in a moment we’ll never forget. RIP to my rat tail, which she despised—fair enough.
The lesson here? Always look for the positive, even when you can’t do everything perfectly. Flip the script when necessary. In the end, it’s not about flawless styling—it’s about creating memories, making magic in unexpected ways, and filling your memory bank with moments you and your child will treasure forever.
