I don’t seem to have much luck with Mr Squish’s hair.
I’ve written before about my unfortunate foray into the toddler haircutting world (here and here). But on this particular occasion, Mr Squish’s bad hairdo was not my fault. (I love that so much I’m going to write it again: IT WAS NOT MY FAULT!)
I learned my lesson and now stay firmly away from such shenanigans, much to everyone’s relief. Now we go to the hairdresser. My son is propped up on a chair with a cape wrapped around him. He stares at himself in the mirror and blinks as the wispy hair cascades past his face.
Yesterday however, I was informed that my normal hairdresser wasn’t available. (Now, this is the part where a smart person would have arranged it for another day. Yes?)
So, what did I do?
“Is there anyone else available?” I enquired STUPIDLY. “Anyone else will be fine.”
This is how I came to meet “Ms Hachette”. She seemed nice, but her pleasant demeanor belied her true nature. Inside her chest beat the heart of a child-hating witch. I suspect she is a descendant of that witch Hansel and Gretel encountered. (In fact, I might just phone the hairdressers now and verify that fact. I don’t want to look stupid.)
I’ve never seen anything like it. She chipped away at my son’s hair with swiftness and intent, lopping off large amounts very quickly. To her, my son’s hair was something evil to be banished from the world. She wanted NOTHING left. Out out, damn hair! Begone with you ALL!
Now, perhaps I am being a little dramatic and unfair to her. I suppose my instruction of “Please take a bit off the top” could possibly have sounded like “Please remove his fringe ENTIRELY”.
Yes. You read that correctly. His fringe has all but disappeared. One moment he had oodles of hair. The next, he looked like this:
You’d think that I’d be angry, but I am not. Not at all. In fact, I am thrilled! I really needed a laugh and now every time I look at my son’s barren forehead, I double over with mirth. Mr Squish, unsure of what’s going on but wanting to be part of the hilarity, starts giggling too. Of course, this just makes me laugh more.
Aside from it being pants-wettingly funny, there is another aspect that makes me happy: I have FINALLY found someone worse at haircutting than myself.
High fives for everyone! Good result!