She did, didn't she? Look at you with your wonky forehead hair and blissfully unaware grin. Good thing you're such a happy little thing because you look like Jim Carrey in one of those movies where he plays a slow person with a bowl cut.
Tell me something. If you're scared of the dark and of ants and those big girls at the furniture store who wanted to share their legos, why the hell didn't you run like a screaming banshee away from your mom when she wielded a pair of hair-killing scissors with a look of amateur ambition in her eyes? What's wrong with you, kid?
You can tantrum with the best of them. I've seen you flail your legs in CostCo because your sister got to hold a bottle of mustard. I've seen you go ape shit over not wanting to put on your shoes. Once you shook your head no so furiously about trying avocado we thought you should start wearing a helmet. But today? No dice. You were completely off your game when mommy said, "bangs might be fun! I can do those!" SHE CANNOT DO THOSE.
But oh, no, that you leaned in for with a giant spit-eating grin and the patience of a saint. You googled and gurguled and cooed like a little angel while she axed away at your hair with the skill of a drunk epileptic with a blindfold. Why, baby? Was your mommy texting while she was cutting? Why you no protest? BABY FAIL.
Well. You made your bed. This is your fault. Not mom's. No way. You are responsible for this disaster. Or maybe we can blame that blonde kid who came over here the other night sporting bangs like a baby Heidi Klum? It's always a blonde's fault. *SIGH* Oh well, at least we look cool in hats.
This is not the look.
UPDATE! People are telling me this is cool or something. I guess we're unintentional hipsters now. Maybe I should try brain surgery next. Evidence:
Um, a total spitting image of my 18-month-old.
Filed under: Mom & Pa Faux Pas