... who had a little curl,
right in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good,
she was very, very good.
And when she was bad, she was horrid.
I have naturally curly hair. When I was a kid, I hated this little poem. I thought it referred to me and meant that I was sometimes horrid.
Here is a picture of me when I lived in Panama.
My hair was very curly because of the humidity. When we moved back to Minnesota, my mother was disappointed that my hair lost (most of) its curl.
It still goes crazy-curly on humid days. Here is me on a dry day:
Here is me on a humid day:
Hopefully by now I have learned not to be horrid when I'm bad. I try even to reduce the days when I'm bad. I'm not perfect, but hopefully I'm not horrid.