Barber's Remorse

Last night I allowed the unthinkable to happen.

The idea had been thrown aorund our place at various times in the last twelve months,

 but this Mummy has always stopped that train right in it's tracks.

The Home Haircut.

The Home Haircut of my precious little Magoo's lovely blond locks.

I give Hubby 'home haircuts' all the time.

Hey, he washes it with soap - and not that regularly.

That sort of disrespect just begs to be home clippered and buzzed free of charge.

But Magoo's sweet, fair, took-a-whole-year-to-appear hair?

I think not.

A professional, nice little boy, short back and sides, leave some for spiking 

job every time, thank you.
At twenty something bucks a pop, thank you.

With a possible bribe to boot, thank you.



Nov 2009
Okay - so the VERY first haircut
 wasn't exactly a success.
But he loves it now! Honest!

No barber's quartet for us this time.

Hubby and Magoo entered the

"do you want Daddy to give you a big boy haircut like his, right here on this chair?"

game once again last night over dinner.

Magoo never agrees.

My precious little man likes his Barber shop visits with his Mummy.
(Previous photo excepted.)

Or he did.

Magoo was off his game, agreed (unwittingly, I'm sure) to the home haircut

and within seconds it had begun.

Nnooo!

I've never seen Hubby hotfoot it to the shed that quickly when I suggest giving the lawn a much needed 'home haircut', but the kit was out and Magoo half shorn by the time I abandoned my dinner and joined them in the bathroom.

It was about this time that me thinks it was dawning on poor Hubby the error of his ways.

Not only had he been the 'supervising parent' when Magoo smashed his gorgeous face up on Sunday morning while I was running with 'the mob',

but now he was further exposing and highlighting the damage that ensued under his care with each bbzzzz.

Unleash the bruising!

Gulp!

Hubby even managed to get me in on the act, sweet talking me into

brandishing the clippers 'to finish it nicely'.

In truth, he wanted ammunition and evidence of shared responsibility for this lapse in parenting judgement.

(I shall be investigating the possibility of some newly acquired Chinese hypnosis technique being responsible for Hubby's powers of persuasion that evening.

Most unusual.

Our Border Protection really let that one slip in on his return to the homeland.)

So, Magoo  - he's happy.

His hair "feels like Daddy's" and he scored a cheeky lolly or five for his compliance.

I, however, feel a tad sad every time I look at his little head.

The words 'bogan child' continually flash before my eyes for some reason 
(cue - 'Sweet Child O Mine - Guns N Roses here)

- but it does feel super soft and velvety!

I guess I can add 'unskilled barber' to my resume now - right under unskilled bicycle mechanic.
How about you?
Do you subscribe to the 'Home Haircutter Network'?

Shar :-)