My mum doesn’t have a hair on her head.

Not one strand.

Not one kink.

Not one curl.

But she does have a lot of hats.

She has hats with flowers and hats with feathers. Hats with brims and hats with bows.

Staw hats, lace hats, big hats and small hats.

Wooly hats, leather hats, cloth hats, sparkly hats.

She has hats for hot days and hats for cold days, hats for summer days and hats for winter days. Hats for normal days and hats for special days.

But she only has one hat for hospital days.

It’s soft and warm, it fits just right, and she wears to hospitals where she must sit, sit, sit.

She wears it and watches her medicine go drip, drip, drip.

Then there’s no hat days. They’re ginger tea days and sleepy days, cuddly days and snuggle on the couch days when I stroke Mum’s head and my tummy feels a little bit funny.

But mum says, when her hair grows back again, she’ll grow it all the way down her back. She’ll dye it blue and pink and green. She smooth it, spike it, spring it and spruce it. She’ll wear it up, she’ll wear it down, she’ll wear it half way in between. She’ll have ribbons, she’ll have bows, she’ll have tiaras and clips, bands and grips.

Mum says, when her hair grows back and she’s feeling good again, she’ll have a hair style for every occasion, a do for everyday.

She’ll have as many ways of doing her hair as she has hats, and we know all about that.