Time

I picked up Mr. Independent (yeah, we're changing his name again)from a visit with Aunt Jen last week, and found my sweet boy's hair in ponytails.
Husband and I decided it was time. We spent the next several days arguing over who would do the deed. I first advocated taking him somewhere, then advocated having someone we know do it, then advocated taking him somewhere that another mom said had done a good job with her kid, and finally succumbed to the lowest common denominator and suggested taking him to Hair Cuttery (I imagine a shudder from anyone who reads this). The whole time, Husband insisted that he could do it himself. Doubting his skill as a barber, I secretly emailed the other mom to get the scoop on her barber.
Then, I stepped out of the shower on Tuesday afternoon. Husband walked over to me and told me to hold out my hand. I obliged, and he shoved a wad of Mr. Independent's hair into my palm. I screamed, and they laughed.
I thought you wanted me to do it, Husband insisted. I was trying to do something nice for you. I was just trying to give you a nice surprise.
Uh...you know how I feel about surprises, I replied.
It would be a lot easier if he'd just stand still, Husband complained. We put Mr. Independent into his chair and strapped him down. I grabbed the camera, and Husband got to work.





It took some getting used to, and Husband insisted that I could take it somewhere to get it fixed, but I'm going to leave it. He's 15 months old, not running for best hair of the year.