A New Do

Ok, I'm a doctor not a hairdresser.  I know.  But it can't be that difficult to cut hair, can it?  I'm sure I did really well on my scissor lessons in kindergarten.  A+, no doubt.  And if I can save $10 or $20, then it's totally worth the risk to try my hand as a beautician.  Well, maybe...

To set the stage, imagine a curious, doll-faced toddler running around the living room in his denim jacket and khaki pants.  As cute as can be.  The only possible flaws on his sweet face being the white, crusty business under his nose, the lunch remnants on his cheek, and pencil straight, light brown, wispy hair curtaining over his ears.  Surely it's the hair obstructing his ear canals that would explain why he doesn't always hear me say "No, Owen, get off the table." or "Owen!  Gentle.  He's just a baby."  Therefore, a good face scrub and little trim was clearly necessary.

I had the afternoon off, and I figured it may take the whole afternoon to perfect my masterpiece.  I positioned my little canvas in khaki pants in his chair at the table and got my supplies ready.  Scissors.  Comb.  Water.  Pickle.  M&Ms.  Marshmallows.  We were ready.

I wet the comb, and carefully arranged each hair.  Snip, snip.  I did my best to mimic the motions of the professionals.  A cut here.  A cut there.  I held damp strands between the sides of my index and middle fingers and continued my work.  Hair fell and tickled his nose.  Hair fell and stuck to his gooey marshmallow.  I tousled his hair with my fingers hoping to break up a few harsh lines.  This isn't too difficult, and it would be cake if Owen would sit still.

The pickle was gone, we survived the meltdown that occurred when the last M&M disappeared, and now the marshmallows, covered in hair, had lost their appeal.  Time to call it quits.  As I stepped back to take a look, my nose wrinkled and my head cocked to the side.  Umm...

I tried a few last cuts to even right and left, but it was a tad bit difficult with a full out fit going on in the chair complete with a head thrashing back and forth.  I had to give up.  Maybe I could finish during bath time.  Good thing it's Friday and you have a few days before you have to show your face at daycare.  Good thing your hair grows fast.

The worst part is that, now, every time I catch a glimpse of his unequal edges I wish I was carrying scissors.  Surely I could fix it.  You might be thinking that I should just take him in and let the real professionals undo the mess I've created.  But it isn't that bad, and that would be embarrassing.

Actually, that might not be the worst part.  The worst part is probably that as soon as his hair is back over his ears, I'll likely try again!  Oh, poor little guy.