William's second big boy haircut

As you may have noticed from recent photos, William was starting to look a little shaggy. Even though I realize this would mean he'd be in style these days, I don't think it's important for 16-month-old babies to be particularly stylish. So I took William to the nearby SuperCuts to get his second official Big Boy Haircut yesterday. Sadly, I have to report that it didn't go nearly as well as his first Big Boy Haircut at the beauty salon on the base in Twentynine Palms. No Miss Nancy. No horsey to sit on.

I should have known that it wasn't going to be a very good experience when we showed up at the salon and no one talked to us for about five minutes. We just stood there awkwardly, waiting for the lone haircutter to notice us. William squirmed, so I put him down and he enthusiastically banged on the glass door, which I'm sure endeared us even more to the SuperCuts folks. Finally, the woman said she'd be "right with you" and then took William's name. He ran back and forth between the aisles of beauty products, but I was vigilant about making sure he didn't touch anything or knock anything over. Luckily we had Cheerios and some board books with us, although as it turned out, running and banging on the glass were more fun.

Fast forward through the 20-odd minutes that he waited (a LONG time with a toddler in tow) to the actual haircut. The lady asked if William wanted to sit on my lap or the booster, and I figured, he'd be fine on the booster. Wrong-o. For some reason, the booster seat freaked William right out, and he turned and buried his face in my legs and clung to my knees and began sobbing. I tried to perch him on top of the booster, but oh no no no. I gave up and sat him on my lap. And William still was suspicious. After the first few violent head wags and some tears, I dug a dusty binky out from the depths of my first and asked him not to tell his daddy that I was going to let him have it for a little while. He settled down a little. The trimming began.

The woman didn't even bother to give either of us a little cape, so we wound up covered in hair. A few times William began to be upset, and would snuggle up against my chest. I'd convince him to sit back up. A couple of times, he even began to smile, and I started to relax, thinking, "Okay, this is going to be okay." He offered me his binky and giggled when he managed to pop it into my mouth (yuck).

But then, the haircutter made a critical strategic error. She didn't remember that small children can get freaked out by the smallest thing if it makes loud noises and they don't know what it does. She came after him with the electric clippers. Tears. Sobbing. Tears and sobbing. Clinging. Much clinging. She tried to show him that the clippers don't hurt, and she held them up to her arm, then mine. Didn't work. William was not placated. She gave up and finished snipping around the edges with the scissors. I asked her to even out a few pieces. Done. Thank God. There has been way too much drama associated with hair in our family.

We got home and William, wrung out from the drama, was ready for his nap an hour ahead of schedule. I brushed off as much of the little curlicues of damp blonde hair as I could and gently lowered him into his crib.

Later, I took a few photos. It's not the best haircut, but I guess it could have been a lot worse. And William is still pretty cute. And doesn't he look grown up?


















And here is William reading one of his new Richard Scarry books:



















And here's a funny shot: