Hairbrush

It was one of those days when Penelope had that kind of pillow head hair, with little strands of blonde sticking up here and there. So much that after she brushed her teeth and woken up a little bit, she sat in front of her mirror and brushed her hair with her soft-bristled pink hairbrush. Penelope felt soothed by the effect of the brush on her hair, and once all the strands had been smoothed out, Penelope felt absolutely gorgeous.

Then I ran in. "Can you do my hair, too?" I asked. "Of course, darling," she smiled, and started brushing my curly brunette hair, which was different from Penelope's hair of course, but we didn't care. Despite not being related by blood due to me being adopted by her as a baby, she still loves me and my hair very much. We all have different hair, whether curly or natural, and we are proud of it.

I felt soothed as much as Penelope by the soft bristles, and when she had finished, she stroked my hair and said: "Don't you look pretty?" I nodded, then went round behind Penny and took the brush, stating: "Now I'll do your hair again!" Despite Penny doing it a first time, she reluctantly agreed and sighed in contentment as I brushed, and brushed, and brushed, and brushed. Then I noticed Parker standing in the doorway. "Mind if I brush the greys of your hair too, Parker?" I asked. "If you must, me little lady," he sighed softly.