life · Life with Four

Toddler Haircuts, Necessary Evil?

 

Haircut day is the bane of my existence. The stuff nightmares are made of, that humiliating (and deafening) experience involving a wailing toddler sitting atop my knees, his head spinning from side to side Exorcist style, his hands swatting away the stylist’s clippers, his mouth a sticky mess of Mentos and clumped together blonde baby hair. His baby sister sitting in her pram doing her best WTF face, his four year old brother repeatedly protesting against his own imminent haircut. Of course it’s always on a weekday morning so there’s always a couple of Ladies of Leisure having their perms set, peering disapprovingly over at the circus that is my life, which is disrupting their salon experience. All the while I’m guessing at their thoughts, probably along the lines of “That poor mother, she mustn’t know how to look after all of those babies”.

It’s even got to the point where I’ve left about 12 weeks between trims and told Mr Four to Adore we’re “growing bub’s hair out” in a surfie, Elle-Macpherson’s-kid-kinda-way. Only that didn’t quite pan out. He ended up looking a little less celeb-bebe and a little more neglectaroony.

Inevitably, the hairdresser will refuse to continue. I’ll still have to pay. About $25 for the privilege ordeal. I won’t care. I’ll paywave the crap out of that eftpos machine and exit the vicinity swiftly before someone I know spots me.

I’ll then pretend that the half-shaved, half-trimmed, under-cut/mullet/frullet ‘do is a trend statement for the next few weeks until it grows out a bit and people stop commenting.

When it’s all over I’ll reward myself with a cappuccino/stiff drink (depending on the hour), mark the calendar for six weeks’ time, and enjoy every harmonious minute in the interim.

What’s your experience with baby/toddler hair cuts been like?

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