Guy has been needing a haircut for a month now. I didn't have much money to take him in to get it cut, and it's almost become an emergency because he can't see through his hair hanging over his eyes, so I made the brave attempt to cut his hair.
I am not the most skilled hair cutter, but I understand the concept. Only problem was I don't have the proper tools. I had a pair of fabric scissors that had tiny teeth on them for fine materials so Guy complain about them pulling his hair. My next choice was the giant kitchen scissors. I didn't even have a regular comb, only an oversized one with 2" long teeth. (Gesh all these teeth, one would think I was chewing his hair off.)
Before I even touched his head, he started crying at the sight of me coming at him with this giant comb and giant scissors. "No, it's going to hurt, don't do it," He would tell me.
I promised him I would cut it in the form of a mohawk for him which he as been wanting since Frank suggested it last summer. I held off because I knew my dad would freak, so I figured now that we were in our own place he wouldn't have to see it as much and the complaints would be more infrequent.
I got one front section almost done when I realized I was clearly losing the battle of mind and strength. He put himself to bed and I tried to lay some guilt on him by painting a picture of all his friends laughing at him at preschool the next day because of his lopsided hair cut. He just said he can be a clown and it will be funny.
Goodness, if he isn't worried about it, I figured I shouldn't be either.
The next night I got about as far on the other side of his head when he had enough again.
Three days this haircut took! Finally, I sat him down in front of a movie where he couldn't see what I was doing in the mirror and I was actually able to finish his haircut!
(Pictures coming soon)