May 11, 2009


Who knew a not even 2-year old boy could look like a tough guy? I totally deserve it though. I spent so much time fretting about getting my hair done at a salon other than the one I was used to, that it is karma for me spending brain cells on myself.

Friday afternoon my daughter had a tennis lesson. As my son and I were playing a fun game of "don't steal tennis rackets from people we don't know" I realized he was in desperate need of a haircut. Both of my children were blessed with thick hair and when his gets too long it gets very large and poofy. His bangs were in his eyes and he had enough hair to knit a small blanket. This kid is super cute and sort of has a surfer dude look. He wears exclusively vans and plaid shorts. He also wears his hair a little bit longer hair than the average 2 year old.

Normally I take my children to a haircut place intended for children. They happily suck on lollipops, sit in bright red fire engines and watch Little Einstein videos completely oblivious to the fact that someone with sharp scissors is cutting around their ears and eyes. It is a pleasant experience for everyone but my checkbook. On this doomed day driving home from tennis I made a snap decision. Bad idea.

There was a SuperCuts or something of the sort on the route home and it had a large sign that said $6.99 haircut special. I was so excited, the neon yellow sign was calling out to me knowing that my child looked like a shaggy dog and it wanted to help. So in we went.

He was hesitant from the get go and I should have left right then. He was looking around for the bright colors, fun music and toys galore. The Tupperware container of gnawed on books and broken Lego's just wasn't cutting it. So when it was his time for the cut no wonder he was less than pleased. I figured it would be easier if I held him in my lap. He calmed down and the haircut lady began to cut. Z-man wiggled a bit so she went with another strategy of pulling out the razor clipper thing just to shape up around his ears. I wasn't stressed about this since I had seen people do this to him before. But then disaster struck. He started wiggling some more because he did not like the sound of that razor and haircut lady got frustrated. In one swift motion she said words that still haunt me "I'm going with number 2" and took a swipe across his entire head. It was like a scene out of a movie when everything is in slow motion and you can't stop the horrible thing from happening. She buzzed my little guy's hair. Apparently "number 2" is a type of razor or clipper or hair eater, I'm not sure but I do know if anyone ever says it to me again near my precious boy's head, I am going to punch them.

I was speechless. We were at the point of no-return. Edward Scissorhands had to go through and do the entire head. It has been 4 days and I still don't see my sweet little baby when I look at him. I see a 22 year old Army recruit.

We met my husband out for dinner that night with some friends. The dads had all been golfing and were meeting the mom's and kids afterward. I told my friends that if I was not sitting at that table that my husband would walk right past Z-man and not know it was him. When my husband walked in, he said hello to everyone, gave me a kiss on my cheek, looked at Z and said "is that my kid?" After awhile Dan assessed that Z looks like a little "bad ass" - not exactly what I want is my sweet snugly guy. My mom now calls him Bruiser.

You know when a dog gets a funny haircut and looks embarrassed? That is how poor little Z is now. You can tell he doesn't feel right. He keeps running his hand across his head as if he is looking for something. When he looks in the mirror at himself he says "uh oh" "uh oh" - and uh oh is right. Lesson learned: $6.99 is entirely too expensive for a horrendous haircut.

This next statement is the kind of thing I say out loud and then am horrified I said it, but I have got to admit, I'm glad I did that experiment on him and not my own head. He is much cuter than me and can pull off a crappy hair cut.

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