First bad haircut
Relaxing after a busy Saturday morning filled with kids Easter festivities, hubby lugged Baby Brother’s high chair up the stairs into the bathroom. He also handed me his electric shaver, then took it back to demonstrate how to turn it on and off. It’s time to cut baby brother’s hair. And I’m going to do it.
I said I could do it. I said I would do it. Hubby said he could do it but would prefer a pro. Everyone said we should do it. By everyone, I mean our Nigerian friends in church. Nigerians are a group of very concerned people and they have spent Sunday after Sunday attempting to diagnose the root cause of Baby Brothers uncut hair. After all, he’s 5 months past the one year old mark. And his head is not full of soft curly shiny hair either. And his fro is not even evenly distributed - he’s got a big heap at the top of his head. But I like it. Hubby does too. But after too many concerned expressions which yielded to dismay whenever we joked that we were keeping his hair so it could be braided, we succumed to peer pressure and decided “off with his hair”.
Back to the hair cut. The task fell to me. Hubby couldn’t bear to watch. Well, he didn’t say so, but why else would he disappear after giving me a short demo on how to use the shaver?
I couldn’t control the shaver - it’s too quick. The boy wouldn’t hold his head still. A disastrous combination. After creating two bald spots, I threw the shaver aside and grabbed my pair of hair scissors. This I could control. Instead of the rapid, vrooom, I snipped snipped snipped. I wasn’t doing too bad, but if only the boy would hold his head still… He wasn’t disagreeable, in fact he hummed “twinkle twinkle little star” happily as he rocked his head from side to side. But I needed to create a smooth finish.
I rushed out to find a lollipop stick. I found one stick. Just one. It did the trick. I carefully did micro snip, micro snip, micro snips as I leveled off his hair. But the lollilop was gone before I was finished. And he was back to rocking his head from side to side. Well, I guess we’re done. Almost level is better than not at all.
I looked into his face, and my baby was gone. In his place was a more mature looking little boy. “I want my baby back!” I thought. But over the last 48 hours, I’ve gotten used to the new face. And I can only expect the next cut to be better anyway, I’ve gotten my practice in.
