The haircut went surprisingly well. I was convinced that Hurricane would scream and possibly try to bite the stylist or maybe eat the comb she had given him to play with. Instead he smiled liked an angel and held perfectly still. He giggled when she used the clippers. In the end, we can actually see his eyes and I've been informed that I must stop calling him a hippie since he can no longer pull off a ponytail.
Mr X also got a haircut. I'm telling you this only because I had shaved his head in August and the stylist still had to sweep up hair 3 times during his cut.
I married wolfboy.
Maybe not, but sometimes it seems like it. Like when we first started dating and his chest was totally bare.
Internet? I could totally braid his chest now. Give him some corn rows.
I broke my little mini shaver giving him 2 eyebrows that didn't grow out from his temples.
One day a hair appeared in the middle of his forehead where no hair should be. He wouldn't let me yank it, claiming that he was like Sampson and this hair, this single out of place hair was the source of his strength.
I ignored it for as long as I could but it was staring at me. We'd be eating dinner and my eyes would inevitably be drawn to that interloper, waving at me as if to say "PPPBBFFFFTTTTTTT!"
So I waited until he was asleep and then yanked it.
***This is the part where Mr X would normally lament his poor Sampson hair, but I promised not to mention the time he threw out the embroidered hankie my great-grandmother and I worked on together if he stopped whining about that stupid hair.***
Hurricane also got his first black eye this weekend beating his sister by 6 months. Actually, it was a rough weekend in general for falling. Friday he took a dive off the porch into the driveway in an effort to escape the terrifying rock that was at the bottom of our steps. He landed on his face and scraped his forehead and cheek. The black eye came from when he tried to ride Cat and instead ended up smashing his face into the table. He also has a cut and bruise on his nose. He bent down to pick up a toy but he was too close to the entertainment center and hit that instead.
It makes it that much more fun to go out. You know, more fun in the sense that people think we've been beating him with a belt.
Let me set the record straight. We beat him with frying pans. Right after we let him run with scissors. We also encourage our kids to take candy from strangers. That way we don't have to pay for it. I taught Girl X to always tell people at the door that she's home alone because I sure as hell don't want to talk to them. Recently we've been teaching them the joys of playing with fire.
Looks like Hurricane is going to have his Daddy's hair and my gracefulness.
Poor kid is going to be mistaken for a drunk Bigfoot.