Myra Jane the Hairdresser

When I was in Irkutsk at the tail end of my mission, Sister Kendell and I had an unforgettable discussion with a woman named Ksenia and her daughter, Vasiya.  Only, we didn't know it was her daughter, Vasiya, we thought it was her son, Vasiya.  And in Russian, like in most languages, you use gender specific pronouns--he, she.  But in Russian, not like English, you also make all of the adjectives and past tense verbs feminine or masculine too.  So our flubbing up Vasiya's gender was not subtle.  I'm sure Ksenia was giving us pointed clues while she spoke, but we were too thick to catch on.  Finally, Kostya Cheklistov growled under his breath (in an accent I will always remember) "It's a GIRL!" AHHHHHH.  What a pretty (fem.) little (fem.) girl (fem.) you have!

But don't worry, Vasiya got her revenge on us. While we were talking with Ksenia about the possibility of reincarnation and the chances that Vasiya's body was inhabited by the spirit of a drunken criminal, Vasiya started combing my hair.  And hitting me on the head with the comb.  And going through my purse and stealing my name badge. And throwing my watch across the room, twice. Sister Kendell couldn't stop laughing at one point, and afterwards she confessed that she just watched, amused, while Vasiya soundly licked up one side of the comb and then back down the other before combing it through my hair.  Over and over and over.

Well, fast forward 10 years and I have my own darling imp that is routinely called a boy.  On Sunday, Sister Ayres commented to me that I have a fabulous hairdresser.  I patted my new hair style and gushed, "I know!  Her name is Bree and I love--" "No, no dear.  I'm talking about your little girl.  She was standing up behind you in Sacrament meeting and combing through your hair.  In fact, she was wiping her nose drippings into your hair and then rubbing it in with her fingers." "Oh.  Yeah, that's how I get it to have so much body."

Darling thing.