Hair Raising

When I was about 7, I got a HAIRCUT. The long, blonde hair I'd had for all those years:



...came off in one fell snip.


I think the new style was meant to be some sort of modified Dorothy Hamill cut only it didn’t turn out so cute.

But apparently was really good for dance class.


Ugh.

I don't remember much about getting the haircut but chances are I was told to sit in the chair, get my haircut and keep my mouth shut.

End of story.

Now there are special salons just for kids.

Holy. Mackerel.

The last time the kiddos needed a trim we just popped into Fantastic Sam’s on a whim and that was that. But this time I thought it might be fun to try the neighborhood “kid salon.” Why not?

This place was a scream.

Literally.

It was LOUD and colorful and crazy-looking and full of sparkly stuff to buy and FULL of flat-screen TVs that were blaring some sort of hair salon-branded cartoon show. Yup, the place had it's very own CARTOON SHOW.

The kids froze.

I instantly had a headache.

When they got in their chairs they were handed bubbles and a computer mouse so they could "control the action" on the aforementioned flat-screen TVs.

S & J are TWO AND A HALF.

"Control the action?"

When did haircuts become entertainment?

And why do we need to hypnotize kids just to their hair cut? (Old lady question: Did we need such distractions when we were kids?)

I guess the important thing is that we got the deed done:




And they had a good experience, I think, although they had that "deer in the headlights" look almost the entire time.

What about the next cut? Not sure. I'm doing my best to raise kids that enjoy the experience for what it is... Does something as benign as a haircut need to be masked in such drama and sensory-overload? Maybe. Maybe that's what a haircut experience looks like these days and I should lighten up and enjoy the ride. Maybe I'm raising myself as much as I'm raising S & J.