5 and 7
“Clare, why won’t you ever let me brush your hair?” Isolda pouted, looking over at the girl in the faded green dress who sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her. The girl shook her head and light brown curls flew around her ears. She gazed down at the doll in her hands, rearranging the doll’s skirt so that it lay perfectly around her cloth legs. “Clare?” Isolda whined.
Clare sighed, looking up at her friend. “You’re not supposed to brush my hair. Mother said so. Last time I let you, she wouldn’t let us play together for a week.”
Isolda rolled her pretty green eyes, “I can make sure we still get to play. Besides, I can put it back up when I’m done. She’ll never know.” She pouted out her bottom lip and widened her eyes, gazing unblinkingly at Clare. “Pllleeeaassseee?” Isolda begged, clasping her hands together. She tried not to giggle as a smile broke out on Clare’s face. She squealed when the girl sighed and handed over the brush that lay on the floor between them. Isolda jumped up and circled behind Clare as she sat up straighter and started pulling the cloth tie from her head. Isolda grinned as she ran her fingers gently through Clare’s long hair. She brushed with gentle strokes and tried many funny arrangements with the long curls. The girls took turns giggling as they looked at in the silver-framed mirror atop Isolda’s elegant desk. When Isolda finally bored of playing with Clare’s hair, the two did the best they could to put it up the way it was before. Clare knew she’d hear about it later, but Isolda’s smiles were always worth the consequences they earned.