Obviously I have to write this one, because if my wife does it, she’s likely to only get incensed again. But there we were with one week to go before we moved. Yes, we were moving to a mobile home park in Montana, likely to be rife with whatever stereotypes you care to imagine, My wife and I both spent at least some portion of our youth in trailer parks in the mid 80’s and such, needless to say, our ideas of a mobile home park were a bit…colorful. But perhaps more importantly, my friends and relatives were up there, so the pressure for my wife to make a good impression was on.
But for now, it’s June 22nd, at about four in the morning and I’m awakened by a crashing sound and the unmistakable feeling of something extremely hot on my neck. My eyes snap open to find my insomniac son climbing over my head, fiddling with the wax warmer. Well at least that explains the burning sensation. “What the hell are you doing, kid?” He jumps down, of course, like he won’t be caught in the act if he’s not standing over my head. “I’m just changing the wax, Silly Billy.” No idea where he picked up that expression, but it’s four am and I’m not in the mood for an explanation. “You need to go to bed is what you need to do.” Oddly enough, he doesn’t argue with me, but just trots off to bed. I notice that Sissy is passed out in one of the chairs in the living room as I pass by, stopping off in the bathroom, I notice a handful of wild brown hair in the sink.
Haircut, okay, I’ll deal with that mess in the morning.
I wake up a few hours later to my wife saying “where’s the rest of his hair?” Spurred into action I get up and notice some more brown hair laying in a pile on the floor. I call out to my wife that I’ve found it, and then I pick it up…its not wild curly brown hair, but long, straight strands. Oh yeah I found it, but it wasn’t my son’s hair.
What happened next was a ball of confusion (mostly on the part of the sleeping children that were so suddenly, very rudely awakened) panic, and a lot of screaming “What did YOU do!” to the point where my wife couldn’t stand for all of her hyperventilating. You see, when we went to bed last night, my daughter looked like this:
Sometime in the middle of the night, she was roused by my son, possibly because he had no one to play with, and the two proceeded to give each other haircuts (among other activities.) and so, eight hours later, she looked like this:
Notice the sad mugshot. And then of course there was the culprit, who couldn’t quite escape his own fate.
And this one is my wife’s favorite. I personally can’t tell if he’s more upset because of mom’s screaming at him, or because he was so rudely pulled out of bed at eight am. A week before we move to meet relatives for the first time, and two of my kids decide that it’s a good time to take up cosmetology.
She’s upset to the point of despondency, understandably so, unfortunately, I can’t do anything about fixing it for a few more hours, but luckily, I found a pretty amazing kids salon that was able to fit us in. It wasn’t anyone’s idea of first professional haircuts, but the pair were in good spirits, and mostly well behaved for their stylists, not that the girls could have seriously done anything worse to their hair short of shaving them bald. Fortunately though, it didn’t come to that.
Still what more could go wrong in the next five days?