Combs were another issue. We had two. One of them was always stuck in the sisal comb holder that hung next to the mirror in the bathroom. The other was on mother's dressing table. That's where we sat every morning while mother combed our hair and then either braided it or brushed it into wringlets. Removing either of those combs from their designated locations was a serious matter.
One of the things that Clarissa got for Christmas was a whole package of combs. Now I suppose that the combs were really for the benefit of her mother, as I don't know too many four-year-olds who write Santa for a package of combs. Lucky Tiffany. While my sister was raising her six children it seemed that "the comb" was always missing. Many a morning there was a minor crisis as the entire family searched high and low for the comb (which, of course, no one had seen or touched). A few weeks before Christmas on just such a morning my sister was fit to be tied by the time the children were out the door for school. When my brother-in-law said, "Sweetheart, what would you like for Christmas this year?" my sister replied, "Just a comb that I can find when I need it." That Christmas morning when she opened her gift she found a brand new comb. Harl had drilled a hole in it and attached a light-weight sixteen-foot chain which he then fastened around the leg of their king-sized bed. She got exactly what she wanted. Never had to look more than sixteen feet to find that comb!