I cannot think of a clever name for this post, so I'm going for the obvious. There have been a few stories involving hair around these parts lately, one for each kiddo and they both happened yesterday. I think the chemicals in my brain were especially off for some reason.
I've braided Lauren's hair before. I even tried french braiding the top of it to keep it out of her face at night. I had never tried a full french braid and, for some reason, I decided that yesterday was the day to do it.
I sat Lauren on her changing table, handed her the basket of bows and barrettes to occupy her, and got started. It took five minutes, there was no screaming, and somehow she had enough hair. Voila'!
I was feeling mighty proud of myself! I even managed to talk Tim into getting Red Robin (Yummm!) for dinner that night. Afterwards, we planned on stopping to get both of my guys haircuts. Unfortunately, the line was crazy long and there was no way that the now screaming Lauren was going to let us do that. I had an "ah ha!" moment. I'll just cut his hair at home again! It's summer and who cares if it's short?
Welcome to my salon! (No, I am not strangling him. Although it does look like it.)
I set up my station outside with a stool and the dog clippers. Yes, dog clippers. I'm klassy like that. Everything was going great until I took the guard off to trim around his ears and on his neck. I saw a stray hair sticking out and thought, "Oh, I'll just get that really fast." At that exact moment, Brenden decided to lean his head back to look at me. BBZZZTTT!! Oh no....
Do not stare directly at the patch of blindingly white skin that is now so obvious on the back of my son's head. Doing so may cause damage to your sight and/or cause extreme amounts of embarrassment.
Will I trim his hair again? Most definitely. Did I learn my lesson about stray hairs and no guard? You betcha!