Bald spot

When my daughter was about six years old, I almost did hard time for murder.

I was all set to commit, not just a homicide, but Matricide. I thought about various ways to get rid of the body, but where would I get a wood-chipper? I realised that I would definitely go down because this time, my mother had gone too far this time and gave my child with a bald spot.

Let me tell you the story and you will see why no jury on earth would convict me.

My baby was born with a full head of curly, black silk which quickly and inexplicably became a high top. It took close to two years for her hair to full back in but when it did, it became one of those thick, voluminous masses that half of us hate and the other half envy. I was still in that rainbow stage, you know what I mean, no bubbles or clips or ribbons could escape.

 One day, while not playing in my baby's hair, I noticed a bump, a 'button' on her scalp. Slightly concerned on the outside and completely panicking on the inside, I wondered aloud about its origin while thoughts of maldew (malju), dirty comb and God-knows-what-else passed through my mind.

 "It's eczema" says my mother, "you have to cut the hair around it".
How I resisted the immediate urge to scream, not just ‘No’, but ‘Hell Frigging No!’ at the woman who gave me life should be taken as proof of God's love and mercy. Instead, I almost politely disagreed and declined.

Instead, I parted around the bump and rubbed medicated lotion and powders onto it. About a week later, while combing my baby's hair (as good hygiene dictates, not because I had bought new bubbles or anything) I saw that the bump had gotten bigger and looked angry and inflamed.
Only slightly worried, not uncontrollable or anything, I mumbled and grumbled about this stinky, 'dutty', 'good-fuh-nuttin' button and the horse it rode in on.

"It's eczema", my mother says, "You have to cut the hair around it".
Again, I politely declined. 
(Okay, fine! I was a little rude but ‘no’ means ‘no’.)

One day I was out and about, maybe smelling daisies, I can't remember, but when I returned home, my daughter was sporting a brand-new, shiny bald spot around the bump. Shades of The Pig's Tale ran through my head.
"I warned that Mom, Your Honour. Your Honour, I warned that Mom."

Long story short, I did not kill my mother ...but I was really angry.
And it had nothing at all to do with the fact that within a week that eczema had dried right up, apparently, the hair around it needed to be cut. 

Go figure.