The Haircut

It’s a new day. It was Friday and I awoke knowing I had a list of things to do that day. I needed to get them done so I’d be free for the weekend, forgetting all about the week’s child-rearing frustrations.
Hubby is off to work, the older kids off to school, YS is fed, clothed for the day and coloring with his new crayons in his new book that Santa had given him the week before. I ran around putting a load of laundry in, gather up the bills to be paid, ran the vacuum, laid out a pound of hamburger for dinner and straightened up the bathrooms.
I looked at the clock and Lo and Behold!!! It was SESAME STREET TIME!!!!!
I went into the family room and turned on the TV to PBS and the show was just beginning. YS came around and sat down in front of the TV (and NO – it’s NOT a babysitter) and began to watch his show. I picked up the crayons and book and set them aside. I told YS that I was going to do the dishes but he was so engrossed in the show he didn’t even hear me.
I was putting the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher and in my haste, I spilled a bowl of half-eaten cereal all down the front of me. I quickly cleaned up my mess – I didn’t have time to doddle that day – and I finished the kitchen. Sesame Street was only half over so I had time for a quick shower. I checked on YS – who still didn’t know anything existed outside of his show and I ran take a 10 minute shower. I was dressed and ready to go in that 10 minutes too, mind you. I had mentally made my list of things I still needed to do and had put them in order. Top on my list was YS’s hair cut.
I had grabbed his jacket and walked into the family room when I saw it. YS was sitting in front of the TV, watching it, the way I had left him. Only now there was this orange crayon scribble all over the front door, TV and paneling.
It was ugly. I sat YS down and told him all of the reasons why we color ONLY on the coloring books. I explain that punishment will come later when I had calmed down and that unfortunately for him, Santa had seen the whole thing. What was Santa going to do? I spent the next hour cleaning that mess up, half crying, half talking to myself (about different forms of birth control).
We’re finally on our way to our first stop which is the barber shop. Hubby had insisted that his son go to a barber shop – not a beauty shop (that was then - now it’s up to whoever takes him).
We entered the shop and took our seats. YS patiently sat there and took the whole scene in. There are several old time farmers in having their hair cut, reading the paper and catching up on the week’s gossip. He watched as each man got up for his turn, sat in the chair, told the barber what kind of cut and then proceeded with the gossip. (As God is my witness – men are worse than women when it comes to gossip.). YS still sat there quietly, waiting for his turn. I was so proud. And relieved.
Finally his wait was over. He got up, climbed onto the seat and waited while the barber adjusted the booster seat. He waited while the barber draped the cloth around him and then told him to give him a “little boys’ hair cut”. I thought that this was one cute kid. And then it happened.
YS proceeded to tell this barber and all the little old men (all of them stayed) what kind of week he had. How he ate momma’s chocolates. How he then tried to hide them – several times. How he then colored the walls and TV orange. How Momma was gonna have to beat his butt later cause she was to mad to do it then and how (heavy sigh) Santa was not going to come cuz’ he messed up big time.
Now to his credit (and all the old men), the barber never said a word during this heartbreaking confession. He nodded and grunted at the appropriate time, tsking here and there and expressing his sorrow over the troubles that had occurred. YS was very serious about everything and the barber understood that. As I was sitting in the chair, mortified; the barber was biting the insides of his cheeks so that he didn’t laugh out loud and all the old men were looking down to their laps, shoulders jerking.
The barber finished the haircut and told YS that he’d give me the bubble gum (he gives to all kids) to hold until I deemed his behavior good enough to receive it. YS hung his head and agreed that this would be a good idea. We solemnly walked out of the shop and I closed the door – only to hear that entire group bust out laughing, saying they couldn’t wait until the following week when he came in for a trim to find out what happened! I started laughing myself (and at myself) and all was right in my world again.