Our five-year-old is terrified of haircuts, or should I say completely mortified. If we even mention the word haircut, even in hushed tones, he begins a blood curdling scream. He totally freaks out at the thought of razor sharp clippers coming anywhere near his head, ears, or neck. We bribe, promise the world, and ultimately just about tie him down as he flails his arms and kicks his legs in utter protest to our desires to have a son with short manageable hair. (which he tells us is what he wants) It’s about all we can do to not scream as his hair climbs down his neck during the weeks between haircuts. It feels like we just cut his hair, and he begins to shag out with unruly sideburns and mullet worthy locks.
Tonight we cut his hair, with the usual protest. We had him climb on a stool and we allowed him to watch any show he wanted as the clippers edged close to his ears. He was so worked up that he was extremely sweaty and the hair stuck all over his body. I had to hold back a chuckle when he lifted a leg that had hair so thick he looked like a bear, or at least a grown man. We survived the horrendous affair, for the most part unscathed, with only a hairy back and hairy legs.
Tonight we cut his hair, with the usual protest. We had him climb on a stool and we allowed him to watch any show he wanted as the clippers edged close to his ears. He was so worked up that he was extremely sweaty and the hair stuck all over his body. I had to hold back a chuckle when he lifted a leg that had hair so thick he looked like a bear, or at least a grown man. We survived the horrendous affair, for the most part unscathed, with only a hairy back and hairy legs.
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