So it’s been a while since the last haircut. It always tends to be that way. I just can’t bare it. So it goes months and months till I can’t ignore it anymore.
Now it’s not a simple case of popping in the barbers when passing, or even investing in a set of clippers and whipping it all off…. That would be too simple.
Instead we have to have the “your hairs getting a bit long” conversion.
So I rang the hairdressers that I knew he liked…. I asked for the lady I knew he liked… I had to wait 4 days for the appointment so that everything was just right.
Right place… Right hairdresser…
Or so I thought.
I pick him up from school having heard he’s had a great day. We jump in the car and drive 5 miles to the hairdressers. We pass many hairdressers and barbers on the way. . . There is even a barbers facing his school! But oh no! These are not quite right, so we carry on to the one that is.
We walk through the door…. I can’t see the girl we have booked in with… Then it hits me we have been given someone else!
Pretty much straight away the crying starts. He isn’t happy. He doesn’t want his hair cutting, he doesn’t like it and wants her to stop.
I look at him curling up in a ball, crying his eyes out as she looks on with “what’s up with him” look upon her face.
I decide to say that’s enough pay and get out of there as quick as I can.
… Only to have to sort it out myself when I get home because he’s wriggled that much it looks like it’s been cut with a knife and fork!