Friday, March 07, 2008

Sharing the Pain and the Glory

Lately (as in, twice before and again today) we have taken Q to a place called Kidz Kutz to get his hair cut. I know, just the name alone is enough reason not to go there. But they have 'vehicles' for kids to sit in while they get trimmed. And videos to watch. And tolerant hair stylists.

The first time, it worked marvelously well. The kid got a really good haircut and a lollypop. I avoided wielding a pair of scissors near my child's head while he screamed and flailed. I didn't even mind that he only whimpered for the stylist.

The second time didn't go as well. He seemed enthusiastic about the vehicles, but then once the trimming started, he began to wail and I had to hold his head still several times for her to whack back the foliage. Worse, his sister woke up and I was holding an unhappy Noodle on one hip, while bracing his head with my chin and arm.

He was due in for another cut, and I decided to beg J to take him in. Sometimes he behaves better if I'm not there. Sometimes. And, I figured at least if he (that is, J) had a traumatic time, he'd be sympathetic next time, even if he wanted to avoid it.

Didn't go so hot. J's words to describe it included: loud, crying, and fetal position.

They finally had J sit in a chair (not a vehicle), with a smock, then had Q sit in his lap, with a smock, and then they buzzed him. He did get different lengths on the sides and top (deliberately), and it looks great, but when I asked him about it he said, "Mommy, don't talk."

J and I agreed that after what would probably be a traumatic event, Q should get a trip somewhere special. I had a sudden stroke of genius and suggested the Chester Airport (see the plane?).

It was a huge hit.

Here's a better look at the haircut.

At the last moment he began bargaining for me to trim his hair at home, then for me to take him for the hair cut, so I bribed him with the job of helping J pick out sandwiches for us. This sweetened the deal enough to get him into the car without tears or lugging. And the happy result for me was an invitation to join them at the airport for a picnic. So I packed up the Noodle, who'd just woken up from a long lovely nap, and drove the 5 minutes to meet them.


It turns out that Noodle doesn't like sudden loud noises. A plane taking off nearly had her in hysterics. I apologized for not warning her. This was the second time in two days that she's been startled by a loud noise (the first by a neighbor's dog barking, only a foot or two away), and has responded with terrified screaming. She's so mellow most of the time that I forget that she can be surprised unpleasantly.

Alas, unlike the small airport of my childhood town, there does not seem to be a place to purchase ice cream while you watch the planes. Sorry Dad.

1 comment:

rollins said...

Well, if there's no place to buy ice cream you should just find another airport. -- Dad