This kid just might be from Oklahoma after all

Business in the front ...

... and a party in the back.

Running with scissors

So I was on the phone with my sister early this evening and around the corner from the dining room comes Kiddle — WITH A PAIR OF SCISSORS IN HIS HAND. I jump up and gasp, "Where did you get those?!" as I dash past him to inspect for damage. This is what I found.

"Is that dog hair? (We don't have a dog.) What is that?! Oh. My. God. Tash, I gotta go ... KIDDLE'S JUST CUT HIS OWN HAIR!!"

Shockingly, thankfully you can barely tell what he did. Even in person it looks pretty good. Even more amazing considering how big that pile of hair is. And the irony of it all? I finally broke down and trimmed his bangs a few days ago. Now they're just layered, I suppose.

Dirty, long-haired hippie!

Yes, my son's hair is so freaking long, Ana had to use a clippie to cut it properly.

Holy Bowl Cut, Robin!

Let's first get it out there that I love, love, love Kiddle's shaggy surfer-boy hair. I hate to cut it because I always think he looks somewhat silly at first. He has gorgeous hair but it's so, so straight it shows every single snip of the scissors which means layering it is out of the question. And it also grows straight down into his eyes, so I can't push it over to the side when it gets longish. But ... it was in his eyes and if I just trim his bangs he'll end up with a mullet. And as entertaining as a mullet might be, I just can't go there. So, yes, I did it. I cut it last night.

So without further ado ... one freshly trimmed Kiddle. It turned out fine, if I do say so myself.

It'll grow, right?







And the title of this post? That's the not-nice comment I got from Mr. P when he saw Kiddle's hair. Grrr.