A Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Sam was in desperate need a little trim, so yesterday I took him to get his very first haircut.  He was starting to look a little hippy-ish.  A true frat-boy in the making.

My mom came along so I could snap a few pictures. 

Look at him---so happy about his very first haircut at 10 months old.

Amber, our long-time hair doer, put the “cape” on him and preceded to do what she does with all her clients and sprayed a little water on his hair. 

And he fell apart.  Lost all sense of himself.

We tried a sucker.  We tried singing “The Wheels on the Bus.”  We tried making every sound every truck on this planet earth makes.  I’m pretty sure I made a royal fool of myself. 

The kind receptionist brought us a different, more flavorful sucker.  He liked it, but not more than he disliked getting a haircut.

“Mom, why are you doing this to me?  Haven’t I had enough ‘trimming’ this week already?” 

We decided to move the party outside, thinking he could distract himself by watching the cars. 

Fail.  Just when we thought he was over it, he’d have another break down.  It really hurt his feelings that we’d do such a thing to him.  I mean, what kind of mom am I?

He had the sniffles for an hour after it was all over.  As soon as we got home, I gave him a long, warm bath to recuperate from the trauma I had caused him.  I washed his hair and gave it a good comb-over.

Edible. 

Who knows when our next haircut will be.  5?  12?  34?  I’m in no hurry.