The Haircut Incident of 2010

Last Wednesday I took Drew to get his 3rd haircut. Isn't it adorable???
Doesn't he look so sweet/happy/darling???

Do me a favor and commit those photos to memory.

Because I am never. ever. taking him for another haircut.

I took him for his 3rd haircut last Wednesday, and it was a complete and total disaster.

Awful.

The morning started off so promising. Drew had a "shot only" appointment at the pediatrician's office. He started crying from the minute that I placed him on the scale to be weighed. He cried a lot when he got his immunization, but eventually settled down. He got his Bob the Builder sticker and we were on our merry way.

I ran by Hob Lob to grab a couple of things, then was feeling ambitious enough to get Drew's haircut. I was checking things off of my to do list left and right. Check. Check. Check. I decided to take him to a different place than we had been using just out of convenience (rather than driving across town to our usual place).

We walked in the door and waited for about 5 minutes until it was our turn. I sat Drew into the cute little taxi seat and buckled him in. The hairdresser began the haircut, and what ensued can only be described as a scene from The Exorcist.

With the first snip of the scissors, it was as if my child was suddenly possessed by the devil.

It was bad. Like really, really bad.

My sweet, precious, passive child lost his ever loving mind. He screamed, he cried, he shook, he flailed about, he threw his head back and almost fell out of the chair.

I was holding him in a head lock as the poor hairdresser snipped away at his hair. All of the sudden she calmly says, "Oh my, I cut myself. Excuse me for just one moment."

What?!?!

She headed to a back room and called the other hairdresser back to assist her. The other stylist came out to tell me that it would be a minute because the cut was "pretty bad." I walked back to assess the damages and offer to help.

The poor woman was bleeding like a stuck pig. I felt so bad!

She put gauze and a dressing on her wound and came back out to finish the haircut. Bless her heart.

I, of course, apologized profusely and tipped her very well. She assured me that she has had kids that acted much worse.

I'm certain that was a bold faced lie.

She went so far as to suggest that we continue to bring Drew back to her, so that he would have the same hairdresser each time.

It sounds like a good theory, but we won't be needing another haircut any time soon. We'll resort to pigtails and french braids before we endure the blood, sweat, and tears (literally!) that experience entailed.

I have a feeling that this incident will lead me to a new self diagnosis - Haircut PTSD. ;)

P.S. I accept the majority of the blame for this experience. Why on earth did I think that it was a good idea to take a teething child that had just gotten an immunization to get his hair cut right before nap time???? Live and learn, I guess. Live and learn.