The Haircut

So I gave Logan his first haircut a few weeks ago. Yes, I, the untrained cut my one-year-old son's hair.

I wasn't going to do it myself initially but after my friend Mariah told me she cuts her boys' hair, I figured I could do it too. Her boys' hair was super cute after all! Too bad that, "if she can do it, I can" logic only works when you're twelve and getting your ears pierced.

Or maybe when you're 26 and having a baby.

Anyway, I figured I would just use the clippers and cut the hair all one length and if it looked bad then I could take him to the barber. Or not. He looks cute in hats.

Here he is before.

Happy, cute, thinking he's going to have a grand old time playing in the sink.

Here I am, master of torture and all things horrific.

See, I figured my biggest problem would be making his hair look good. After all, he likes having his hair brushed, he laughs at loud noises, and he loves playing in the sink so much that I didn't think anything would distract from that.

Wrong.

This would be his tear stained face after I only cut half his hair.
Crud!

He HATED the clippers. He was screaming, flailing, swatting at me, and arching his back.

We had to take a break so that he could calm down. Tyson held him while I went on a mommy guilt trip and tried to figure out a humane way to finish cutting his hair.

Perhaps a better distraction? Like Chocolate?

I gave him an empty bowl of chocolate trifle that we had just finished and watched him happily dig into the leftovers.

This would work for sure!

Wrong again supermom.

Now along with everything else there was also chocolate in his hair. Genius.

And this is where the photo journaling ends.

We laid Logan down on a towel and Tyson held his arms down while I shaved his head as fast as I could. Thus there were no hands free for taking photos.

Lucky for us, kids are quick to forgive.