Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Andy's First Hair Cut!

On the morning of Andy's first hair cut, I looked at my son and thought to myself, "There's something wrong with this kid."  Of course, he was wearing Mr. Potatohead's tiny yellow eyeglasses at the time, which added to the overall wrongness but didn't necessarily cause the wrongness itself.  Andy gets a kick out of squeezing the small Mr. Potatohead glasses onto his big melon head and toddling over to proudly show me and Chris how hilarious he is.  Andy's advanced sense of humor is one of his more lovable qualities, right after his tendency to loudly refer to his "pee pee" in public or insistence on wetly kissing strange children directly on the lips.

Something needed to be done about Andy's hair.  As you know, I've delayed his first proper hair cut for ALMOST A FULL YEAR.  The sense of urgency just hasn't been there.  I think there's a reason why I've been given boys instead of girls- the lack of attention to cosmetic issues would most certainly drive a wedge between me and some bitchy pre-teen obsessed with hair crimping.  I can only assume crimping will be making a full comeback in the next decade.  At least I hope so!  Anyway, Andy's hair on Saturday morning had seemed to cross some sort of invisible line from unruly to completely awful.  I stared at his head, his wild, uneven curls sprouting madly from behind his Mr. Potatohead glasses and muttered to myself, "Eventually, this kid's going to need a real hair cut."  There were long chunks of hair and short chunks of hair, and one side of his head seemed to have more hair than the other.  The back of his head looked like some maniac had used a weed wacker on it.  That maniac was me.

And yet it wasn't until an hour or so later when Chris looked at Andy and said, "Let's take him for a hair cut" that it was decided that, yes, Andy was actually, finally going to get that hair cut.  Within a definite time frame.  In fact, that very day.

When we showed up at the kid hair cut place in the mall, I realized Chris may have had an ulterior motive for wanting Andy to get his hair cut.  "Ooh, gelato and crepes!" Chris exclaimed, seeing the cafe across the way advertising gelato- and crepes.  "Who wants crepes for lunch?  Because I want crepes for lunch."

Andy's first hair cut began innocently enough.  The receptionist told us to pick out a video for him to watch during the big event, and Andy and I headed over the DVD rack for selection.  Andy immediately grabbed four of the shiniest DVD cases, clearly anticipating a six hour hair cut from hell.  I pried three of the DVDs out of his tough little hands and then we went to wait our turn.  Andy was interested in staring at some of the other kids for a few moments, and then, having decided he didn't like what he was seeing, jumped off my lap and tried to run out of the hair cut place.  No doubt heading straight for some gelato.

When it was Andy's turn, I took him over to his stylists' booth.  The stylist stuck Andy's Caillou DVD into the television while I strapped him down into his special hair cutting chair- a car.  "Look, Andy, you get to ride the car!"  I exclaimed.  I was trying to sound joyous and excited and succeeded in sounding about half as happy as Chris had sounded about the prospect of dessert for lunch.  "What an awesome car!  Beep beep!  Vroom!  Screeeech!"

Andy was calm for about a second and then burst into tears.  He shoved his hand into his mouth, his new self-soothing technique now that he is without pacifier.  If Andy offers to shake your hand, you may want to decline, as it's likely slick with drool.  The tears quickly turned into screams as Andy imagined what sort of torture awaited him in the seat of what would have, under most circumstances, been a pretty bad ass little car.

I unstrapped Andy from the car and handed him to Chris, who sat down in a normal hair cutting chair (for some reason, there's no bigger version of the car for daddies- seems like an opportunity for fun lost).  Andy managed to calm down while Caillou began on the television, and the stylist got to work spraying water on his head and doing some preliminary snipping.  Andy's crazy little curls began to fall around him like drops of chubby rain.  All seemed okay.

Then Andy started feeling nervous and stuck his hand in his mouth.  The problem?  His hand was covered with his snipped hair, some of which had attached to his soaked little fist upon falling off his head.  Andy now had both a mouthful and handful of hair.  Tasting and feeling all that hair in his mouth and against his tongue freaked Andy out, and he burst into unhappy tears.  We could almost hear him ask:  "Why is my mouth full of hair?  What is going on???"  The solution, of course, was for Andy to reach in and try to pick out the hair- but because his hands were coated in hair, he didn't succeed in REMOVING any hair- just ADDING more hair into his mouth.  It was a vicious cycle, and as Andy wept and continued to dig into his mouth, I realized that I was seeing Andy experience true frustration.  Not "I want a cookie and she keeps saying no" frustration- but true, "Oh my God, why is this happening to me?" frustration.  He was so very upset.  I felt so sad for him- but also couldn't help but reflect on how adorable he looked when he cried.

Nothing could help Andy, either- not wiping off his face and tongue with a wet paper towel or offering him sips of water from his cup.  It wasn't until the hair cut was over, Chris had taken him to the restroom, and we had been handed his first hair cut certificate that he started to kind of calm down.  The certificate was pretty cute- a little document commemorating Andy's first hair cut along with bagged lock of his hair and a picture of him snapped directly after the hair cut completion, his little face twisted into a knot of misery.  But, hey, the hair cut looked pretty good.  Neat, clean, short- less wrong and more right.  This is the kind of hair cut that wins a toddler the electoral college vote.  This is the kind of hair cut that says, "Yes, I assure you I'm qualified to file your taxes" or "Mom, have you seen my tie and brief case?  I'm running late for a meeting.  But not a crazy amount of late.  A small, conservative amount of late."

The tears dried up completely when we left the hair cutting place and walked the fifteen feet to the gelato and crepes place, where Andy had, along with a grilled cheese, his first taste of banana and caramel crepes.  And, hey, everything was okay again.

I'm really liking Andy's new hair cut, although a small part of me does miss the unruliness of his uneven curls.  The Mr. Potatohead glasses still look funny on him, though, so there is that.  Just not quite as funny.  But, don't worry. I'm sure his next real hair cut won't be for another two years, so crazy head Andy shall return. 

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