When you have children, there are many unexpected minor challenges that arise. I’m not talking about the major stuff, but rather the day-to-day minutiae that you never even consider until it pops up in the moment. One of those, for me, is enduring the occasional haircut.
My twin boys turned four this spring, so they’ve had about a half dozen trips to the barber in their lives; they have never gone smoothly. Henry can’t keep his cool. The sound of the buzzer scares him. He says the scissors hurt. He won’t sit still and cries through it all. The end result is a sad child, a stressed out stylist, two exasperated parents, and a poor haircut. Ollie is better in the chair, but, unfortunately, was nicked in the ear by the clipper during his last visit, leading to blood, tears, and a newfound fear of something that never used to bother him.
For all this trouble, I was content to let them grow their hair out for many months, if not years. Children’s haircuts are not cheap, after all. Why not let them rock a mop of hair for a while? Two of them, with tip, approaches $70! I was more than happy to save that dough and avoid all of the agita. My wife, not so much. As far as she was concerned, they were in desperate need of a trim. So, after letting their hair grow out a little longer than normal, and the hot summer days stacking up, we were facing an imminent return to the barber.
This weekend, I decided to take matters into my own hands. If the result was going to be a bad haircut and a stressful experience, surely, I could accomplish all of that myself at home.
Well, reader, you’re not going to believe this, but it didn’t go particularly well. Now, I wasn’t expecting to be able to pull off a masterpiece, but even by those standards, it was rough.
We started with Henry, and right from the jump he was reluctant. After an extended period of cajoling and light bribery, we negotiated the terms: I could cut his hair only using scissors, while he watched TV, and after I was done he would get a lollipop. Sounds simple enough, right? Well, anyone who has attempted this gambit before will quickly realize my two mistakes.
First, though I laid out a few towels in the living room to collect the trimmings, that hair went everywhere. After several vacuumings, we’re still finding strands in the rug and couch. Next time – if there is a next time – the at-home haircuts will be done outside.
Second, not being a professional stylist by any means, scissors resulted in a terribly imperfect cut. The buzzer became a necessity, much to Henry’s stringent objections. To make matters worse, I cut certain parts so short that I had to use the lowest setting to even it out. The result left Henry essentially bald; it was short enough to make my mother cry at first sight of him with his new buzzcut (despite a warning ahead of time). There are worse times than the heart of summer to have a shaved head, I suppose. Although, now I need to remember to put sunscreen on Henry’s head when he steps outside for the next few weeks.
With Henry acting as the crash test dummy, Ollie’s haircut went much more smoothly. We used a higher setting, and it all went pretty much as planned. It almost felt unjust to Henry, as if I should have screwed up Ollie’s “do” as well, in the name of fairness.
Once all was said and done, they both happily enjoyed their lollipops, and aside from running their hands through freshly shorn domes on occasion, haven’t really given it a second thought. Was all this worth saving $70? I honestly don’t know. But what’s done is done. I’m hopeful that I didn’t create any scarring memories for my boys (though I can’t speak for me, my wife, and my mom). Hair will grow back, after all… which is both a comfort, and also a threat, knowing that we will need to go through this process all over again in a few months!
