This left Amelia, who has a fine head of hair that needs no alteration, and Michael, who I've long thought needed a haircut far more than Abby did. What started off as a little rat-tail soon became a bona fide mullet, and I've been impatient to see the wildness that has taken over in back get tamed.
However, true to form, I've not been able to organize a plan of action for doing anything about it, and though I had a thought that maybe his Nana should give it a try after seeing how well Abby's turned out, Tom and I were not on the same page at the same time. Once he realized that a trim was something that I actually wanted for Michael, it seemed that his impatience to see it done began to exceed even mine.
All throughout the day today, he made mention of giving it a try himself, and so- trying to put faith in his enthusiasm- just before dinnertime I helped him set up. I watched with great nervousness as he began, but things seemed to start off well.
Michael did not wiggle or complain, as I feared he might do (the offering of my cell phone for his use helped a lot in that department), but since we positioned him in front of a mirror, he did have an unfortunate penchant for swinging his head unexpectedly behind him to check out what was going on back there. A lot of jumping and gasping, on the part of Tom and me, ensued.
Still, Tom's hands were pretty steady, and- almost instantly- the tail was gone.
But then it happened. Perhaps Tom got too comfortable. Perhaps he was distracted. Perhaps it was just a rookie mistake (it was bound to happen, as neither he nor I have ever cut anyone else's hair before). Tom took a little too much hair at once, a little too high up, and snipped. Suddenly, there was a bit of a bald-ish spot in the back of Michael's head.
I jumped in and desperately tried to fix the damage, though I knew right away that there wasn't much to be done short of buzzing everything.
Though it was a hard-won battle against my OCD tendencies, I finally tore myself away after about ten minutes, terrified that I would just end up making things worse and hating myself for having messed with it too much.
It was not so terrible after all, anyway. He did end up with one decent side (apart from that area above his ear that I was a little too timid in for fear of snipping his ear; upon later consideration I realized we probably should have run the clippers briefly over that spot).
As for the other side? I want to cry a little each time I look at this picture, but in all honesty it's not as bad in person, particularly from a distance.
Ironically (I know, wrong use of the word but give me a better option), I think I managed a better job of the hair just over his ear on that side.
Regardless, I know that soon enough it will grow out again, and when it does we can take him to a qualified place, secure in the knowledge that he will not likely throw the half-crazed tantrum we'd had a thought he might have.
In the meantime, bad haircut or no, he's still my handsome little guy.
When he wants to be, anyway.
