First Professional Haircut

Here it is:



Husband says he looks about 5 years old now. He's only 18 months, I'll remind you, in case you thought we waited until he was teased in kindergarten before ever cutting his hair.

Did he enjoy the salon experience? No he did not, even though they have flat screen TVs playing Disney movies, bubbles for people to blow, chairs in various shapes of automobiles, and stickers and lollies as treats for afterwards. That's way better treatment than what I get, which is hair pulled, a head full of bleach, and left under a noisy hot air lamp for half an hour.

The stylists collaborated in using electric clippers instead of scissors, which they thought was a very clever and efficient choice, but which I think might have been a mistake for two reasons: first, they create a terrifying sensory experience, and second, I like his hair a shade longer. Daniel cried piteously through this hair cut.

I think we'll have all these details worked out for next time, and generally Haircut Day will be an event to look forward to. There is a bakery right next door, so I can whisk my disgruntled stylin' little youth directly to the cupcake display after his hairy ordeal. Daniel is holding the head of his Hawaiian bear cookie in the picture.