Here’s a picture of my kids on Christmas Eve and as you can see both are looking a little shaggy. On January 2nd, I took both for a haircut. The oldest will soon be 6 and he loves, loves, loves to get his haircut. He’d do it once a week if you’d let him. He climbs into the chair, sits perfectly still, turns his head when asked and thoroughly enjoys the experience. Here’s the after picture and you can see by his expression he’s very proud of his new doo.
The youngest on the other hand…let’s just say it’s a work in progress. The January 2nd, 2015 haircut is the second of his brief 18 months. The first attempt was met with tears, screams and unsubstantiated claims of physical and emotional torture. It was also cut short and by “cut short” I’m not referring to the hair. The time in the chair was cut short because the MIZZOU offensive line wasn’t available to hold him still.
The January 2nd, 2015 experience was much better. I sat in the salon chair (it’s been a long time since I’ve sat in one by the way, if you’re familiar with my hairstyle you understand why) and I sat him on my lap. I read a book to him while the stylist commenced clipping. A little here, a little there, just over the ears, trim the bangs, shorten the back and poof – haircut complete.
In the interest of full disclosure it wasn’t quite that simple. To be honest, I feared for my life. Each time the stylist approached my son with razor-sharp scissors – he dodged and that meant the scissors were dangerously close to my carotid artery or my eye. My reflexes are quicker than I knew so I avoided injury. My son’s hair is shorter, far from even but you try cutting a straight line on a moving object. He’s a thumb sucker and every time he pulled his thumb from his mouth it seemed to grow hair. Every time he reinserted it he began to spit and gag. In the end no blood was drawn, from either of us, and his GI tract wasn’t blocked by a hair ball so MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. Here’s the after pic, please note he’s smiling so no child was harmed in this experiment:
Obviously my house is very “boy” and I’ve learned there are two things that make boys smile no matter the situation. The first, bodily noises, even the 18 month old giggles when he toots. The second, a fort, boys love forts. Please note that’s fort with an “o”…and here’s the proof! I told you there were two things that makes every boy smile and those two things are just a vowel apart.