I let my husband give my son his second ever haircut.
I’ll give you a moment to let that sink in.
Ok, continuing on… Riley got his first haircut in early February (the day the Packers won the Super Bowl, as a matter of fact) and he was not a fan. We paid $22 for him to wear an Elmo cape and watch Thomas the Tank Engine while teeny tiny snips of hair were clipped from his head. Now, 2-and-a-half months later, his hair was again in his eyes, tickling his ears, and generally pissing him off. We wanted to fix the problem, but we did not want to pay $22 for it.
“I can cut his hair,” Derek said matter-of-factly.
“Um…no,” I replied.
“What? I’ve cut hair before!”
“Yeah, shaving your brother’s head into a mohawk when you were 16 doesn’t count.”
I was giving him shit, but yes, I knew that he has cut many of his friends’ hairs. And not just shaving heads, he’s actually given real hair cuts. Granted, I had never seen anyone with a haircut that he had given them, just heard the stories about it.
But the devilish cheapskate on my left shoulder was louder than the debit-card-swiping angel on my right shoulder. So my son got a haircut in the kitchen.
A before shot.
Notice the hair in the eyes – this little man’s pet peeve.
Check out that technique. It’s almost like my husband knows what he’s doing, right?
….and AFTER. Now let’s first all agree that there is really nothing we could have done to this little boy’s hair to make him any less adorable. But let’s give props where props are due. Good job, husband! The cheapskate devil on my shoulder foresees many more homemade haircuts in the future. (Um…but not for me. I ain’t that cheap.)