All my grandmother ever wanted was curly hair. Well maybe not all, but there was definitely a deep yearning, enough so that she married a wavy-locked man in order to pass the desired gene on to her offspring. Unfortunately all four of their daughters ended up with stick straight hair as well as the same undeniable curling desire. If any of you have seen pictures of me you know the end result... the hair DNA skipped a generation. On humid days in Georgia I practically have a full Afro. Don't get me wrong, I fully appreciate all my grandmother's efforts, enough to write a book about it and name my daughter in her memory. But the connection runs deeper.

Senia Mae sees things on a very linear level. Whenever we play princesses, even though there are a total of eleven, I always have to be Snow White because we both have dark, curly hair. Why can't I be Merida (very curly hair) or Tianna (an excellent cook) or Ariel (a wonder in the water)? With my natural traits and talents I could easily be one of those princesses. Her answer is always, "No, Momma, you have curly hair... you have to be Snow White." And so it goes. Once again, I am Snow White, even in the summer with a tan.

I wasn't aware that Gram's curly hair obsession was spontaneously transferred into my young daughter until the day I spritzed some product into her hair right after her bath. She wanted me to wrap the terry cloth towel around her head and let it sit for a few minutes, like I do mine.

When I removed it she looked in the mirror and responded like this, "I love the curls... I love the curls!" It was so adorable.