Aaron put his foot down yesterday. He had had enough. Over the weekend somebody told him he had a beautiful daughter, and I guess that was the straw that broke the camels back. Its true, Clark's hair was getting pretty long. It went way past his ears and the curls started disappearing because of the length. But good grief, it was cute. I loved it. It was part of his personality and character, and I was scared to death that once we cut those little curls off they would never come back. Even though I was dead set on prolonging his first haircut until Clark's 16th birthday, somehow Aaron convinced me to bite the bullet. It was time.
We decided to take him to the barber shop where Aaron and every other male specimen in Oxford gets a haircut. He nervously sat on Aaron's lap while we put a cover over him and I got my camera ready. Wanda, our very patient stylist, proceeded to comb all the raggedy curls out so she could start cutting. Clark didn't like it very much but was easy to distract with a root beer flavored sucker. The beloved sucker did wonders for us yesterday. I started getting panicky with each snip because I could see the little curls just falling helplessly to the floor. Soon enough, Clark started getting uneasy with the whole situation and began to freak out, which I definitely expected. Wanda kept telling me to talk to him to get him to calm down but I was too busy trying to keep myself from having a panic attack in the middle of the barber shop. It was almost too much to handle. For me, that is. Clark handled it wonderfully minus his 45 seconds of unpleasantness. I thought about the time I was in horrible labor with a 9.5 pound baby and Aaron was there to hold my hand and I could squeeze the ever living crap out of it when I got uncomfortable. Well, yesterday, I could have used that hand again. I was uncomfortable but had to pretend to be cool. I am so not cool. I never really have been. Ask Aaron or anybody who has ever met me.
When she finished, I mustered a weak "Thank you" out of my mouth and then tried to crawl into a dark hole and sob. His curls were gone. His sweet ringlets were completely out of sight. Surely you can understand my sadness? We paid Wanda and walked to my car so I could yell at Aaron for peer pressuring me into doing something that neither Clark or myself was ready for. He tried to convince me that once we gave him a bath and brushed his hair the curls would reappear like magic. I told him to talk to the hand because the face wasn't listening and then spun my tires as I peeled out of the parking lot in pure anger.
I didn't actually do that last part. I used my blinker and drove very carefully out of the parking lot.
When we got home I started making dinner while Aaron kept Clark entertained. When it was time for Clark's bath, I'm sure Aaron made some kind of stupid comment like "get ready to be amazed by the reappearing curls." I wouldn't know. He was getting the silent treatment.
I'll skip the part about what we had for dinner get to the part that you want to hear.
The good news is the curls came back. The bad news is the curls came back. I was beyond ecstatic that once we towel dried the crap out of his head, those sweet little curls just did their thing. They bounced around in every direction and did a happy dance on his little head. I would even go so far as to say that this haircut makes Clark EVEN cuter. Was that even possible? Oh happy day.
But why is this bad news, you might ask? Because for at least the next 72 years, I get to listen to a wide variety of following comments:
See, what'd I tell ya about that haircut?
I was right about the haircut wasn't I?
Aren't you glad he got a haircut?
Aren't you glad I convinced you to get him a haircut?
I'm the most awesome person ever aren't I?
Don't you think I'm awesome?
Tell me I'm awesome.
The truth is, Aaron is awesome and I'm glad he convinced me to get Clark a haircut. Perhaps the haircut symbolizes something much bigger than curls. Clark's first haircut means Clark is growing up and there is nothing I can do about it. I'm positive I will have the same overreaction with Clark's first poop in the toilet, his first day of kindergarten, his first lost tooth, etc, but I really don't think I can help it. It's out of my hands. Although I'm sure there are pills out there for people like me.