One day recently I looked over at Des and his bangs were hanging in his eyes. Then I noticed hair starting to creep down his neck and over his ears. Weren't we just here? Didn't we just have that whole exciting haircut experience, like, yesterday? Okay so I guess it was more like 3 months ago. But still. That seems really fast. If this is going to be an every 2-3 month thing, I might just have to buzz it like daddy's. Boys are so high maintenance!
If Desmond's hair had a little curl to it, he might able to rock the shaggy do, Jo-Bro style. But unfortunately it is stick straight (dad's genes, not mine), so it looks all raggedy and straw-like. My cute little scarecrow.
Off the barber we go!
We tried 2 different days, and the lines were ridiculous. When we went the last time in January it was on a weekday afternoon. So I'm sensing there might be an issue with the weekends. These suburban dudes and their grooming while surrounded by animal carcasses.
It was getting to the desperation point with his hair. I was resorting to hats, every day with the hats. So after a 3rd attempt at our regular barber, all with 30+ minute waits (no thank you!), we finally decided to try out the kid's salon, Snip Its. Over stimulation, over prices and all.
This experience was entirely different from the barber, obviously. But not in a bad way. We waited about 20 minutes, and Des kept himself quite entertained. For a while he just sat on my lap with his thumb in his mouth, taking in all the scenery: kids running around, bright colors, fun music. Once he got his bearings, he was off to investigate puzzles and books and games. He was really into this submarine-looking thing.
Whenever there's a button, he's there to push it... over and over and over.
When it was time for the haircut, he was not that excited about getting in the chair. We had another little boy next to us screaming his lungs out, so that may have made him nervous. And that kid had a lot of hair, poor guy.
So while the chair and the cape and the unknown lady with sharp things were all scary at first, he loosened up and did amazingly well. Just a few whines and only a little blood. The stylist nicked herself on the finger pretty good when Des turned his head suddenly. Hey, better her than him! Sorry lady.
His mood was helped by the dancing cartoons on TV! And bubbles! And animal crackers! And lollipops!
Good lord, the pops. If the stylist needed Des to look down so she could get the back of his hair, I just had to hold the pop down by his lap and he'd bend his neck down, his lips open like a fish reaching toward the sweet sweet sugary goodness. I couldn't contain the laughter.
Of course, he looks stinking precious with his new big boy cut. And after a few days, it's a little less Lloyd Christmas...
... and much more Desmond Jack