An Incident involving scissors

Some of you may have noticed from the video posted on Monday that my child's head is buzzed.

If you ask the Boy, "What happened to your hair?"   He will tell you quite honestly, "SCISSORS!"

Now, some of you may be thinking that the Boy some how got a hold of the scissors and cut his own hair.  This thought is not the most correct you have ever been.  This time last week I came the realization that cutting hair is just NOT in my skill set.  I wish that it was.  It's an incredibly useful skill to possess, it's just not one of mine.

Rant:

I GIVE UP, OK?!  I can tell you when to use Who and when to use Whom, I can make cupcakes that feel like pillowy clouds in your mouth, I can ask where the toilet is in 4 languages but I can't cut my child's hair!  And I quit!  I give up!  I can't do it!  And so my child shall have long shaggy hair or else I shall pay QUALIFIED PROFESSIONALS from here on out.

Well.

It feels good to get that off my chest.

Now, back to the story of what happened to my child's head.

Before we moved, I sat the Boy on the kitchen counter and snip-snip-snipped the shaggy ends of his wispy hair until it was no longer hanging over his ears.  And it turned out FINE.  And so, the story I am about to relate becomes a morality tale of how PRIDE cometh before the FALL.

I knew that distraction was the key.  So I put on Return of the Jedi.  (What?  I thought he'd like the ee-woks.)  I got out the office chair and let it up to it's full height.  I got him situated with the scissors and the comb and I set to work.  It started off just fine...he was distracted by the movie and I was snip-snip-snipping along.  And then he MOVED and I took out too much.  So then I had to compensate and try to even things up.  And then he moved AGAIN.  And AGAIN.  And AGAIN.  And now suddenly my child looks like this:

only WORSE.  Shorter!  And Blonder!  And it was just so many shades of HORRIFIC  that even thinking about it makes me want to CRY.

So we got him in the bath tub and Chris took the scissors and was trying, TRYING to fix it.  And he looked at me and I looked at him and he said, "Bring me the clippers."  So we buzzed it.

And his poor head!  His poor fuzzy head!  It misses it's hair.  And HE misses his hair!  And now instead of looking like my darling child he looks like some Dickensian street URCHIN!

Ok, so even as a Dickensian street urchin, he's still pretty cute.

We've been eating a lot of cookies and reminding ourselves that it'll grow back-- it'll grow back-- it'll grow back-- it'll grow back-- it'll grow back.