November 08, 2004
Haircutblogging
filed under: Dadditudes , PicturesIt finally had to happen. Max's downy, errant curls and bangs finally had to be controlled, as they risked obscuring his face, poking him in the eyes and collecting enough food for three lunches at a time.
(the big haircut, before and after)
So off we went to Lulu's.
Just as Park Slope Babies (PSBs) are required by some mystical force to be pushed around in Maclaren strollers, and PSBs are strapped into Britax carseats, and PSBs are shod in those little leather bootie shoes whose name escapes me, and all PSBs must have the glittery ring grippy ball, and PSMs (Park Slope Mommies) must wear clogs, so must all PSBs go to Lulu's for their first haircuts. There's no use fighting it - you might as well try to live in Park Slope with neither a baby nor a dog. Yeah, you might make it a couple months, but long term? Uphill battle.
Lulu's is a combination toy store/childrens' hair salon, where they have become masters at mitigating the misery of a confused child who doesn't want his head touched by a stranger with sharp implements.
We had 20 or so minutes to kill before our appointment, and Max was determined to climb right up the wall of shelves to the giant four-foot Elmo doll unless distracted, so I rolled him around on a wooden bike for a bit. I don't really understand the concept behind this bike, as it has no pedals and is sized for children who can't balance on a bike, but also has no handle for a parent to stabilize or push it without walking around bent double. And costs over $100. Whatever.
We tried putting Max in the police-car chair, and while he did enjoy the steering wheel, once our stylist Gina spritzed him with the water bottle, he was having none of it. Even though the water bottle had a dinosaur head, and even though another stylist was feverishly blowing bubbles at him. Even though they had put Elmo on the DVD player and daddy was bouncing the Elmo puppet madly in front of him. Even once we moved to the sit-in-mommy's-lap chair, Max showed exceptional focus and for a while managed to keep Gina at bay, as in this nice straight arm move:
(click for full size)
All other options exhausted, we went for the most powerful weapon in our parental arsenal: the raisin bread and cashew butter sandwich. Distraction achieved.
With Max shovelling fistfuls of sandwich and hair (his and others') into his face, Gina had a few precious seconds. She moved like a ninja, and Max only managed to bat her hands away about half of the time.
Finally, Gina declared victory, or at least a negotiated truce (I believe her exact words were "Enh... I think that's probably close enough). She was tipped generously, and we headed out into the crisp fall night with a First Haircut diploma (including scotch-taped lock of hair... those Lulu's ladies sure are pros) and our clean cut little buddy:
The only lasting traumatic effect for Max is that he spent several days having to deal with his proud Mom and Daddy (way more excited about the haircut than he was) periodically screaming "OH MY GOD HE'S SUCH A LITTLE MAN!" without warning.
Posted by rjt at November 8, 2004 12:35 PM