Title: Mirror Image
This story is part of the Glimpses of Ben Series.
Since that fateful day when 4-year-old Ben Fraser had cut off all his hair, he had climbed out of bed every morning to run and look in his mother's mirror. For the first week, nothing changed. His hair stood about an eighth of an inch long all over his head, shorter in some places. His little legs would climb up on the chair and survey his mirror image severely. And each day, when there was no change, he would sigh and climb back down off the chair.
In the third week, his hair seemed to stop growing, but Ben still made that trip every morning to his mother's mirror. His mother was surprised that Ben kept up the daily visits to the mirror. She knew he was plainly disappointed with the growth of his hair.
One evening during the middle of the fourth week, in which Ben still got up every morning and ran to the mirror while Caroline was washing her son's hair, she noticed that his hair was growing in even curlier than before. She sighed to herself. Poor Ben, she thought as she scrubbed his little head. She put him to bed knowing that in the morning he would see the curls growing back.
Ben rose and stretched and threw his covers back. Surely today he would see how his hair was growing back. He slipped from his little bed and ran for the chair by his mother's mirror. He squared his little shoulders, took a deep breath and climbed up on the chair to look in the mirror. It was now perfectly obvious and plain to see that his hair, which had been curly before and soft and fine, was now curly and thick and heavy. His shoulders slumped and he dropped down to sit on the chair. Tears filled his eyes. Caroline watched as she had every morning during the preceding weeks. She went to her son and gave him a hug.
"Sometimes," she whispered in his ear. "Sometimes, one has to be careful what one wishes for. Sometimes what we want isn't better than what we already have, but it's ok to keep wishing son." Shesmiled and gave him a kiss.
The door banged open and Bob Fraser carried a new load of firewood into the kitchen. One look at his son's head with it's new growth of hair and he smiled and as he ran one of his hands through his own dark, curly hair. "Now that's more like it, a Fraser head of hair."
Ben and his mother exchanged smiles and laughed.