It was out of control.
Phil, my dad, and Phil's dad all have full heads of hair (I hope I didn't just jinx that for anyone). I actually found out after Phil's dad passed away that he was actually really proud of his hair. I think that's funny because I never would have thought of him being proud of his looks. I think it's cute.
It looks like Henry inherited the luscious locks of his forefathers. But the mane needed to be tamed.
I found a children's salon in town, but they have pretty much the worst hours EVER! They are open from like 10-5 Wednesday through Saturday by appointment only or something like that. I just couldn't make it work. And our Saturdays are full for the foreseeable future.
I knew I needed to take matters into my own hands.
I mean, I've cut the dog's hair. I've cut my own bangs. When I was little, I cut the hair off my dolls. How hard could it be cutting a little person who moves constantly and tries to grab the scissors every time they come close to his head?
Piece of cake, I'm sure.
Worst case scenario, I would be frantically calling my sister-in-law so she could buzz off all his hair.
When I mentioned it to Phil, he got a little terrified look on his face. But at the same time, he knows that when I say I want to do something, that means I have thought about it immensely and it is happening.
So it happened. I told Phil to take pictures of the process and he proceeded to take 11 of the most unflattering pictures of me imaginable. NOT good for the self-esteem.
Drum roll for the finished product?
Thanks to The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh and cheerios (and my excellent barbering skills), it turned out ok.
Phil pointed out that the hair above one ear was higher on one side than the other. I pointed out that Henry's ear didn't get cut, he never once got a hold of the scissors and he doesn't look like a fool. Plus I saved like $30.
We'll call it a win.