So Grace and Jackson were playing together in their room, Grace with her loom, and Jackson with his new cars. It was so quiet and peaceful (somehow I'm suckered every time by this. Quiet and peaceful almost always means we are up to something. How do I keep forgetting this?). Suddenly I heard them starting to come down the stairs. They were giggling and Jackson was holding a chunk of hair in his hand. His head was practically bald in spots with long wispy clumps of it still sticking out in others. I ran up the stairs to find piles and piles of his hair all over Grace's bed.
When I asked for the story Grace said, "Well, I looked up and Jackson was cutting his hair and I thought oh that looks fun, I want to help with that. So I helped him cut all of his hair. And I really like it. Don't you mom?"
I was not happy. Not happy one bit. I loved Jackson's curly cues. And besides the horrible haircut, he now also looks so... old. I immediately called Ryan who started laughing. I tried to convince him that it wasn't funny but he wasn't having it, "oh Amy, everyone has a haircutting story from their childhood."
Hmmmm, yes, I guess they do. In fact, actually I have one, and it even comes with pictures. I'm not sure how old I was, I think maybe four. Kirsten and I were innocently playing barber and taking turns to "cut hair" (these pictures were obviously taken before the incident).
When it was my turn to be the barber I went to get a real scissors. "Your not really going to cut my hair are you," she asked. "No, no," I assured her... and then went on to really cut her hair. My mom was not happy. Come to think of it, I don't think anyone was.
So I guess I had it coming to me.
And I'll have to learn to like a buzz cut.
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