Last night, Nathan and I decided that it was time for Phoenix to have a much needed haircut. His head is starting to look like the back end of a wildebeest. (If I could find the connector cord for my camera I would have a pic of his hair. I'll keep looking.)
I found a Lego in his hair the other day, and he hid small rocks among his locks on Saturday while playing outside. It is definitely haircut time.

Well...

We should have known better, not only because he is almost 3 and very in control of what he does, and what everyone else does as well (a.k.a "The Bossy Phase"), but because it was 8:30pm, which is one hour and thirty minutes past bedtime.

Phoenix and I had also just returned from a 3 hour shopping trip.
(*happy sigh* Goodwill *contented sigh*).

We should have just let it go for another day or two, instead of trying to hold this child down and cut what we could reach.

But no.

As parents, we have this "superiority complex" that tends to take over our brains. When we get the notion in our head that something needs to be done, and it has to be done RIGHT NOW, our brain short circuits the nerve endings that lead to the RATIONAL THINKING part of our brains.

Lets shorten this story.

Nathan got soap in both eyes
I have a bruise on my chest in a place where most women have something to complain about if they get a bruise there...
Phoenix may possibly be traumatized for life.

It was probably pretty stupid of me to offer him a candy cane as an apology. Now every time we pass a barber shop, he will remember that red and white striped candy cane, and how it very closely resembles the spinning barber pole hanging from the door of the barbershop. Oh while I'm at it I might as well screw up his idea of Santa Claus as well. Candy canes are always a stocking stuffer...

I think I am theoretically losing it.

Anyway, when we decided to finally stop torturing the now lop haired child, Phoenix looks up at us and growls "DONT TOUCH MY HAIR! Where's Grandma?"

Nathan says "Would you let Grandma cut your hair?" and Phoenix said "Oh yes, can I have some milk now?"


So we put the poor traumatized child to bed under his Thomas and Friends blankie and kissed him goodnight, silently apologizing for the sheer terror (or SHEAR terror) we put him through.

(Ha ha, get it?? Shear terror!)

(Yes, I have lost my marbles, thank you for noticing)