I have a history of making bad decisions when it comes to my kid. Meat lunch with a side of meat? Yes, please. Leaving him with my forgetful mother in in a zillion degree apartment while I run around her apartment complex? Why the hell not! Drag him around to run 12, 000 errands andfind him in a urinal? It's sterile-ish, right? And then there was this incident:
Well friends, I have outdone myself. Let's add "crazy haircuts" to the list of craptastic parenting decisions.
It's hot here in Chicago. Like DC dog's breath swampy hot. So yesterday we tried to go to a water park only to be turned away due to lightening. Wusses. Back to my aunt's place we headed for a little fun in the rain; we like to live on the edge. And that we did.
All it took was one suggestion of buzzing my kid's head and there we were, sitting in the garage with clippers in hand. Do you know that you need to put guards on the clippers so you don't cut hair too short? Well, I didn't. And that you need to hold the kids head so they don't jerk it around and you end up with a wonky line (if you can even call it a line). Again, notsomuch. So we ended up with this.
An 00 cut (yes, that is DOUBLE ZERO). And professionals indeed were called up for service. They charged me $5, I paid $20. I still feel like like I owe them more than a$15 tip and my gratitude. What went from a fun, silly idea turned into a lot of guilt and a bald-headed little dude. Especially when, while laying down last night, Ellis stated, "my hair is beautiful, mama." Luckily, I have been told the difference between a bad haircut and a good one is two weeks. Come on August!
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