Yesterday it was time to get The Boy a haircut.
I knew it was time to get The Boy a haircut not because the hair was hanging down below his eyeballs, which it was, but because The Boy himself TOLD me it was time to get him a haircut.
So off to SuperCuts we went.
Because I called all the other places, and sweet potato pie on a stick! They want a house with ACREAGE to give a fourteen-year-old a few snips with the scissors nowadays. Honestly!
The Boy hopped into the chair and told the gal who was to be his stylist that he wanted an inch off of his hair all over. Because I kid you not when I tell you that he and Samson were in a contest to see who could grow the longest locks until I put a halt to that nonsense. So the "stylist" began to cut. And snip. And style.
And during all the cutting I decided it would be wise to make sure that the sheepdog I call my son could actually SEE out of the orbs he calls eyes when all was said and done. I walked up to where he and the "stylist" were and said only this:
"Would you please make sure his hair is cut above his eyebrows? Thanks so much."
Honestly. That's ALL I said. And then I sat down.
Fifteen minutes later I looked up from the magazine I was reading to see The Boy walking toward me with an expression on his face that had no equal. And I immediately knew why.
The "stylist" had cut his bangs a full inch and a half above his eyebrows.
He looked like the little Dutch boy. And he was about to cry. And so was I.
In a daze, I brushed hair off of his shoulders and began the first of a million apologies for the day. I paid the "stylist" and we left. I apologized again and again. He just sat there, covering his forehead with his hand so no one would see what a "dork" he looked like. The worst part about it is that he has Freshman photos to take in two weeks.
Oh yeah, I felt like sludge.
So tomorrow we're going to get him another haircut. Shorter, but stylish. One that has room to grow back out to the shag cut he had before. And we'll pray really hard that it looks really good.
Because I really would like for my son to like me again.