If you didn’t notice in my last post… Porter’s hair was in desperate need of a trim. It was getting long and shaggy and parting in weird spots leaving weird chunks of hair trailing down his forehead. I had briefly thought of letting his hair grow longish for the summer, but not sure how to do it without him looking like he just needs a severe haircut… kwim?
So, tonight I decided to trim up his hair. I’ve trimmed his hair for quite awhile now. He got his first haircut from Papa Barczak when he was 10 months old, had another trim by him not long after, and from then on I just trimmed it myself as it was easier than taking him in to the barber shop to get it done. Other than his first haircut, never once has he cried or screamed or thrown a fit getting it trimmed. Sure, he’s squirmed, but nothing that was out of the ordinary for a wiggly little boy.
Well, tonight I decided to take him on the deck to trim his hair. It was nice out, he wanted to be outside with the “Durls” (dogs… aka “girls”) and I figured it’d make clean-up easier.
He wasn’t into having his hair trimmed. He SCREAMED bloody murder these words: “NO! No Mommy DON’T! Please DON’T! Stop, MOMMY! Please! NOOOO!”
OMG… does it sound like I was chasing him with a freaking belt or something? I tried making it a game… “Oh look at the ‘bulldozer’ that’s going to trim your hair” (referring to the trimmer guard thingy majigger). I tried turning stern and telling him to knock it off and stop screaming and that it wasn’t killing him.
And then after about 5 minutes of him screaming toddler obscenities at me I finally just gave him a good whack on the butt (what is it our mothers used to say… “I’ll give you something to cry about?”) and after a good minutes cry over his whacked tooshie he chilled out and sat for the rest of his haircut.
I swear, I was THISCLOSE to just buzzing it all off because he was ticking me off and burying his head into the chair and acting like… like… like… oh hell, I have no idea. Like a raging toddler.