Margaret’s First Haircut*

Margaret has needed a haircut for a while.  She had a very wispy look, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that it is only in the last couple of weeks that she has been brought to tolerate the bow or the rubber band as a method of keeping her bangs out of her face.  But the worst part was the back, where she was growing something that looked a bit like a rat-tail, only without the grooming and definition that that implies.**

So I searched on the internet and interrogated my friends happened to remember that one of my friends had had a good experience at a kid’s haircutting place.  And off we went.

It was pretty impressive.  First, they had chairs like cars, which makes me think that my hairdressers are getting off pretty easy.  Do they provide activities for me?  No.

Second, they had televisions where the kid could watch a favorite show.  We were somewhat hampered by the fact that Margaret doesn’t have a favorite show, since she doesn’t watch television, but we decided that she could try out Mickey Mouse.  She didn’t seem to mind it.

Margaret took this process very seriously.

This seriousness is actually a good thing, I think, because it shows that she is aware that it is not always the best idea to let someone you don’t know wave pointy objects about your head.

So she kept a close eye on what was going on, via the mirror.

Occasionally taking time out, of course, to drive the car.

And sometimes experimenting with driving with her feet, because that’s a good skill to have, right?

Anyway, it went well, she didn’t scream too much, and her hair now looks like it is meant to do something.  It doesn’t always do it, mind you, but it looks like we mean it to do something, which is a step in the right direction, if you ask me.

*This isn’t technically Margaret’s first haircut, because her Aunt Char trimmed her up last March a bit at the back where it was beginning to look a smidge moth-eaten, but this was her first haircut not in someone’s kitchen.  Also her first haircut that was done without her being clutched to my chest, which meant that I could take pictures.  So for the purposes of this blog, this was her first haircut.  And anyone who has a problem with that can take it up with someone else.  Because I’m clearly very busy, which is why this explanatory footnote is going on far longer than it has nay business going, and has devolved into self-referential and narcissistic twaddle.

**Which is, just to be clear, not very much at all.