I nearly cried. I guess it's mostly my fault, though, considering that I kept telling her we were going to get her hair cut. I'm sure her little two-year-old brain believed she was helping me out.
I couldn't bear the thought of giving her a boy's mushroom cut, so this is what I had the hairdresser do:
As long as I can get her hair "trained" to part on the other side to cover up the hack job, all will be well.
After this stressful episode, I realized that if Grace does something as a teenager to cause me real worry, I might not make it.