Today was a day when I finally had some time to devote to the issue of the giant clown-head of hair that my son has spent the last 3 years developing.
When he turned two, his curly longish hair was just delish. How could I cut it?! I just couldn’t. It wasn’t out of control or anything, so we just let it go wild. Which it did. Which we didn’t pay much attention to, to be honest. But, every afternoon when I picked him up from daycare, it was SO clear that he was the only child that had not had a haircut…
Edward and I used to talk about going to the Magic Kingdom. They have that barbershop just inside the entrance. One of the doctors I work with took his son there and had an amazing experience. And got a commemorative hat. Cute and silly.
That plan was a bust.
Second plan, Uncle John.
World-class barber, family member, man with skillz.
As far as I was concerned, this was a very good option. We stopped by the shoppe a few times. V was NOT impressed the first time.
Between the first and second visit, we saw John a few times. The second visit was a bit better. We chilled in the shoppe, watched some people get a haircut and then went and visited Auntie Celine at Publix and got a cookie.
And so that brings us up to today. Thought we’d try something new, so we went to Sharkey’s Cuts For Kids in Avalon Park. One of my ladies lives there, told me it looks super appealing to kiddos and so we thought we’d check it out today.
As we walked towards the shop, he was excited. There was a shark on the door. Major excitement. Inside? A Lightening McQueen car. Holy freak out! And as we moved towards the Lightening McQueen chair, he balked. Froze. Mentally retreated. Screamed. Flailed. Resisted.
And then we left. We left with V saying “Only Uncle John cuts da hair. I wear a ducky cape. Getta hair cut.”
And off we went.
We waited politely at Uncle John’s salon. And he pleasantly accommodated us.
And was pleasantly rejected by V. John stepped in with the best statement ever “Give him to me”.
I sure will. He is all yours.
In reality, we struggled with a child that didn’t want a haircut until his little bum was place into the barber chair. Once cutting commenced, crying decreased but still remained rather steady throughout, despite Uncle John rather chipperly shouting out “Vince!! Just cutting a bit!! It’s fine!! Look! I’m done!!” or something like that. I forget.
I was mentally crying. All those little snips eradicated any blonde that resided on that sweet little head… My little tow-headed blonde is now a brunette. And is an actual boy.
Apparently when you get a haircut you become a real boy. Haircuts are magical. Instantaneously, he seemed to become an adult. And then he proceeded to make a bunch of adult decisions. “Mummy, I need to go peepee on the potty”. And so? Off we went. “Mummy? I need to do a poo”. Really? At a public place? Hells ya. And so off we went. There were no pants accidents that day. Lots of polite conversation about using the potty. Very humane.
Post-haircut, I really felt like a needed to do a shot. I thought I was fine. I honestly did. But as we drove away and V called for his current favorite song to be played, I snuffled back some tears. Those little baby-fine locks of hair drifted to the floor like butterflies. And then his tears pooled on top.
Butterflies and tears. A Mariah Carey explosion.
I am sure she is already planning a cover for her next album after reading this. As you may know, my blog is on the top of her favorites list for parenting advice.
Anyways, Little Man on post hair-cut is rather proud. He politely bragged to Daddy and Grandparents about how his hair was cut by ‘Unka Donn’. Who is really Uncle John. Who really cuts hair. Really well. And has a Barber Shoppe. In Orlando. And totally will cut your Little Dudes hair as well.
This morning when Edward woke up, he said (in an aside) to me “He looks SO different.” And in a way he does. But then he ran and gave me ‘super kisses’ and ‘Super hugs’ and said ‘I love Uncle John’.
I love Uncle John too.