Snip Snip, Cut Cut

This is the story of the day that we cut Graham's hair.



In reality, I should have written this down after we had gotten home from this event {it was most definitely an event}, but I think we were are still too traumatized and the wounds were still too fresh to even contemplate the idea of putting it down on paper.



We have both healed since then, and I believe that I have the courage to sit down and write about this. In the car on the way to Ohio of all places. After working two nights in a row and getting about 6 hours of sleep total.



So. Graham's hair.



The timeline begins the day before when I had decided that Elliana's hair needed cut. I was brushing it completely out {vary rare occurrence as she hates her hair brushed}, and that was when I had noticed that it was almost down to her bottom. It looked stringy and dead. Far outgrown and in need of maintenance. There really was not enough time to head out to the cutters and have it professionally done, and since I'm used to just trimming it up, I thought that I was fully capable of doing it myself this time as well.



Pony tail in about 6 inches up {rough estimate}, precisely where I wanted her length to be. Snip, snip, cut, and all done.



It looked rough, and there was a lot of "fixing" to be done, but after about 20 minutes, I felt pretty satisfied. Really, if nothing else, it confirmed that I can save $20 from now on and just simply do her haircuts right at home.



Graham though? That's a different story.



Snip, snip, cut, cut---that doesn't quite work out the same way for him. It may be because I have no idea how "boy" haircuts go, or maybe the fact that he screams bloody murder the minute he sees the scissors come out {or most likely a combination of both}, but regardless, it is by far a bigger challenge than it should be. I have done harder things in life.



My sister was over out my house at the time when all of this went down. I had her try to distract him as I went for the prize---the hair. The first cut didn't go over very well. He moved as I snipped and it basically only cut half of his hair. I then proceeded to chase him for the second cut. Tried to bribe him with a lollipop with the third. TV with the fourth. And by the 5th time I realized that I had just made the biggest mistake in regards to this child's hair and that there was no way that a 5th, 6th, or even 20th cut would ever fix the mess that I had gotten us into. In fact, if I even wanted to spare this kid a decent "do," then I better think of something quick.



Well, I mean, unless we were dealing with rocket science here, the only real solution to this problem would be to head to cookie cutters. And so cookie cutters it was.



My sister looked up haircuts for me while we drove and we narrowed it down to two favorites by the time we got there. One short, one long {er}. Both had the same idea, but I just could not yet pick which one would better suit Graham. Actually, I could not for the life imagine him with anything but long hair, but toyed with the idea of doing something crazy and unexpected. And it was not until we actually stepped foot into the door that I knew exactly what we would do.



We attempted to place him in one of those kiddy cars. You know, the ones that he kids just gush over and get all this excitement in their bellies about. If not that, then surely they would be thrilled about the movie that they get to pick out. Or the idea that they get a lollipop at the end? I should have known better. Remember, it had only been an hour since I was running around the house chasing him with scissors {scary scene, I know}.



I had to sit with him, and even when I sat with him, he would try to arch his back and scream the most shrilling screams with the biggest crocodile tears coming out of those big beautiful brown eyes. He wiggled. And screamed. Wiggled and screamed. Over and over and over. The entire time.



I'm telling you, if you want to crush your heart go to cookie cutters.



Thankfully no one was there, and thankfully the lady had experienced this before, and thankfully she was so patient and just went with the flow. No cover, just snip, snip, cut, cut, and hair everywhere. On me, On Graham, and no one cared. Except Graham of course.



I went short. I went incredibly short. And when I saw his sweet little face after all the trauma had ended, I couldn't help but think to myself---heart break was worth it. That face was precious. The tears stopped right away. And it was as though nothing happened just then. Seventeen months of hair cut, right there on me and the floor. And I had not a single regret. In fact, I couldn't help but think---why had I not done this sooner?



It's been almost a week and I still stare at him in amazement. Almost as though I brought home a completely different little boy. A more grown up version of Graham and left my little baby Graham behind. In cookie cutters.



Who would have ever thought that a little snip snip and cut cut would lead to what he is today. Handsome if you ask me, but I believe he will always be handsome---long hair, short hair, blue hair, or no hair.