When I was twelve, I got a perm. It seemed like a stellar idea at the time. My stylist warned me not to brush my hair after I had showered and scrunched it. I heard: don't brush your hair ever. EVER. Four months later that same stylist chopped all my hair to my chin because she couldn't save the rat's nest of tangles it had become. In case you're wondering, braces and short hair and a 5' 11" height simply made middle school a delight. My wish for Baby Emma's beautiful hair is that it never knows a perm.