Sooooo, he was looking pretty slummy when we decided it was time for his first haircut. I was scared. Real scared. I imaged tears and screaming and running and eyes getting poked out by sharp scissors. But then I read about Mama Geek's experience, and I was consoled. Maybe it's not so bad after all...? It was either that or live my days knowing I've allowed my child to sport a chullet (child mullet).
I mean, this is where he started, for crying out loud! And you can't see it, but from being in his sit 'n' stroll for so many hours on the flight to and from Ireland, he had a nasty knot in the back of his hair that was IM-POSSIBLE to get out.
BTW, if you're wondering about the face, he's eating a banana. For some reason, he can't take dainty bites of food. Food, in his humble opinion, is meant to be stuffed into one's mouth all at once. This is especially true of bananas. Give him half a banana, he will likely try to get it down in "two bites."
But I digress. We braved our local kid's hairdresser in January. She was very tolerant and quick. I'm talking in and out in 10 minutes. Why can't all hairdressers be that effective? Sure, his front was slightly crooked, but I didn't notice until we washed his hair that night because she put a small amount of product into his hair. Maybe she knew? Who cares...he didn't cry once! All that worrying over nothing. It probably helped that we went when the place was empty, so there were no other distractions to tempt him. I looked for a good "after" shot, but I just couldn't find one. Suffice it to say, I was pleased that for $10, we got a quick cut with little fuss, and I could finally look at him without wanting to apply mom spit or something.
One thing made me gasp. She said the dreaded words "my, he has a lot of hair." Oh, the curse lives on.
Two months later and his hair was starting to get long again. And as Easter and our trip to Boston approached, I figured it was a good time to get a second cut.
Ah, how foolish I was.
I naively went at a different time than we did before. It was much, much busier, but I persisted. The wait was only 5 minutes, after all. He drew on paper with crayons, eyed the coin-operated car, and practiced getting in and out of chairs. When we were called, I sat down and put him in my lap like before. I didn't bother with a smock because I realized that first time that (1) it blocked my arms and (2) his hair is so fine it just blows right off. Hardly a need for shielding myself, I say. I did, however, put a smock on him just to avoid the worst of the mess.
He went ballistic. The hairdresser and someone else did all sorts of things to get him through it. In the end, stuffing a couple of cookies in his mouth did the trick, but she was on a strict time line because he eats fast. She did a pretty good job...straighter lines than the first person. He even allowed for the buzzing of the baby sideburns, but he drew the line when she tried to blow off the excess hair with a blow drier. That should have been an obvious one, though.
But overall, Oy! I don't know if I'll be quick to take him back. Chullets aren't that bad, right?