the old grey mare, she ain't what she used to be

Soon, I will be the amazing woman who baffles hairdressers the world over.  You, dear readers, will be able to say, "I knew her when..." 


When my hair wasn't completely and irreversibly grey.  When I had a bit of chestnut, chocolate brown, blonde, boring brown, red, black (that was bad).  Before my hair changed in an instant from lovely, glossy, freshly coloured gorgeousness to wiry, stressed-out grey.  The sort of grey that says "Brand new semi?  Foils?  Pshaw! I'll see you your semi and I'll raise you some stressed-out Mummy GREY!"


So what's causing this freakish phenomenon? 


Really?


You had to ask?


Well, it's been coming on for a while now, but the defining moment was on Wednesday morning.  I went to the loo, leaving the Bear deeply engrossed  in Bob the Builder.  On my return, a bare sixty seconds later, he was up on the kitchen bench, playing with something.  On closer inspection, I realised that he was playing with the cover of the phone point.  In fact, he'd taken the cover off (how, I'll never know, as it was allegedly screwed on; the screws are still there) and was playing with the pretty little wires inside!!  Not only that, but he'd taken a picture off the wall, removed the hook, and put the (metal) hook in his mouth!!  


Playing with electrical wires while chewing a metal hook.


There's no hairdresser alive who can deal with this sort of grey.