I had to wait so long for him to get hair (about 14 months) that I could never bear to cut it. I joked that he is my free spirit, my little hippie and I taught him to flash a peace sign and say "peace man". It wasn't until my best friend Jaime Girl gasped at his birthday party when seeing the state of his mullet that I knew action had to be taken. Knowing that I would NEVER cut it if left to my own devices she swiftly procured an appointment for herself and Owen for the coming week. She knows me well enough to know that if she didn't act quickly I would come up with 1,000 excuses as to why this isn't necessary.
I spent all week brushing and playing with his hair, putting it in little ponytails when Dad wasn't around and getting weepy more than a few times at the thought of the baby to little boy transformation that is inevitable after the first haircut. I emailed Owen's stylist (a dear friend) and warned her that I might be sobbing but would try not to make a scene as his gorgeous white hair started to fall.
Luckily, I never had the chance to be upset because I had to physically restrain him during the entire process while he screamed, kicked and generally made an enormous ruckus. I spent most of the time making a fool of myself trying to sing songs to calm him down and sweating to contain him from getting his eye impaled with scissors. Many thanks to Jaime Girl and sweet Amber who was a complete Saint for helping. Also, thanks to Amber for letting us come in after hours so we didn't send her regular clientele running into the streets. If you ever want the hippest haircut in Kansas City book your appointment at The Darling Room, Owen's salon of choice! :)
That's bad...I see him make the big cry face and a smile flashes across my face... ;)
ReplyDeleteI guess I laugh not at his pain, but just imagining that he normally is laughing 1 minute after crying...