Nolan got a haircut this weekend.
More specifically, I gave Nolan a haircut this weekend. Did I do a good job? Meh. Did I do a good enough job? Yep. And how do I know this? Because it’s done, and that’s really all that matters.
Haircuts have been a challenge for Nolan since… well always He’s not exactly great at sitting still (me too, kiddo), and we’re coming at his head/ face with either a sharp thing or a noisy thing… It’s probably terrifying.
Plus, he probably knows that he’s going to end up with a haircut that looks like something his mom gave him. Because, well… it is. And honestly? Thank goodness he wears headphones, because they cover a multitude of sins. Between that and his super curly curlinesss, I’ve managed to avoid embarrassing him to death (and as a teenager, that’s a real possibility).
So here’s the before (from a few days ago) and the after.
What you can’t see in the pictures is what happened behind the closed bathroom door. It’s not closed so much to hide what’s happening as to keep him from running away. I am not above chasing him with the clippers, but if I can keep the chasing limited to a smaller space that’s better for all of us.
A typical haircut exchange usually goes something like this:
Me: Okay Buddy-- we’re going to cut your hair and then have a nice bath.
Nolan gives me the side eye when he sees me unplug the charging cord from the clippers.
Me (turning on the clippers): See? Here we go. Not too loud.
Nolan (extending an arm to push me away): AAAAAaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!!!
Me (in the calmest fake voice I can muster): It’s okay, kiddo, see? (and I buzz a spot) You’ve got this... Not that bad!
Nolan (really disgruntled now): BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
Me (now I’m lying to myself that I’m actually as calm as I’m pretending to be): See? Good job!
And it goes on like that for maybe fifteen minutes or until one of us gives in (usually it’s him thank goodness-- otherwise we relive the same episode the next day and the next and so on until it’s done). Sometimes I convince him to help me, which usually involves him just holding the clippers with me.
And we survived-- just like we always do. Most days, that’s the primary objective.
Plus nobody ended up bleeding, so it was a good day all around.