His hair grew fast and before we knew it, he had fairly long locks. I loved it, but people began asking me about my little girl despite the blue and brown clothing that he frequently wore. I would trim his bangs from time to time so he could see, but I resisted Tony's increasing suggestions that we get his hair cut.
And then there was the day this happened. I was not happy. Not happy at all.
And Tony admitted that trying to cut Ryan's hair himself might not have been the best decision he's ever made. Even Ryan appeared to be unhappy with it.
But eventually, even that bad haircut grew out and he once again had his beautiful locks. Personally, I think he was happier with his beautiful long locks. Even if people were once again asking about our little girl.
But a few weeks ago, it got to be too much. He couldn't see through his long bangs and ever since the stitches in the ear incident in July, he won't let me cut his nails, cut his hair or any other types of personal grooming that mothers like to do.
So we visited Cookie Cutters, the genius hair cutting women who can magically cut a crying, writhing child's hair. When we arrived, Ryan was wary. The airplane chair did nothing to disguise the torture that was about to begin. And true to recent form, he screamed as if his life depended on it.
I told the hair technician that I wanted a classic little boy's cut - not too short. She pulled out the shears and told me she didn't think cutting with scissors was going to be safe with all Ryan's writhing and screaming and all. I agreed.
And then she started to buzz. And buzz. And buzz. Before long, I could see it was too late to question the length and we were going to be completely buzzed. Apparently I don't understand the term "classic boy's cut". But I love it. I didn't think I would, but I love it.
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