When I was little, I HATED it when my mom did my hair. She tried to put it up in hot rollers every week for church, and I complained the entire time. She was pulling my hair, she was doing it wrong, it hurt, it was too hat, I didn't like it. I have many memories of sitting on the toilet seat in the bathroom with tears going down my face and toilet paper stuck behind my ears to keep the rollers from burning my skin there.
I SWORE that when I had a daughter, I would NEVER torture her by doing her hair.
(Someday, I will figure out how to switch the orientation of photos so they show up the way I want them to. But today is not that day.)