The sticking point was: what order to do them in? It was the very definition of a high class problem. Or, OK, maybe a low class problem. Certainly the problem of a childless person who didn't know how good she had it. But a problem nonetheless.
It seemed unwise to get high first and then take a pair of scissors to my husband's head. But then, who wants to have sex with little hair cuttings falling all over the place? Luckily, once we were high we were too lazy to do the haircut. Pot has a way of making everything seem less important than watching YouTube videos and eating Wheat Thins.
Even though his mop remained shaggy, Jeff dodged a bullet. The one and only time I had ever cut human hair I accidentally snipped off a piece of my friend Charlie's scalp. In my defense, I think I was high at the time. (Oh, college.) And my Jem doll's circa-1991 buzz cut did little to recommend my styling skills.
So you can imagine my abject horror when last week, Jeff grabbed S.'s rattail and demanded that I snip it off.
See, our son came out of the womb with locks to rival Liberace's, a trait he gets from his dad:
|Jeff at 2 months; S. at 3 months (in his badass passport photo--hey TSA, someone doesn't give enough of a fuck to sit up straight. Or to sit up, like, at all.)|
I feel confident in classifying it as "Extreme" because the traditional mullet, as everyone knows, is "business in the front, party in the back," while S.'s was decidedly a party at every angle.
I blanched at cutting my son's hair for three reasons, aside from the aforementioned sucking at cutting hair in general:
- Since S. is uncircumcised, it would be the first thing anyone snipped off of him, ever.
- (Okay, except for his fingernails, which will soon be Edward Scissorhand-ian seeing as I cringe every time I wield the baby nail clippers. It's like playing Operation, except that if you miss, instead of getting that freaky buzzing sound you chop off one of your progeny's digits.)
- I always want Jeff to keep his hair shaggy and he ALWAYS cuts it against my wishes, and S.'s is the only head of hair in the household I have any control over (mine doesn't count, due to its fondness for settling into a triangle shape and, lately, falling out in clumps).
|Before and after. Bald spot not my doing.|