"Good morning. Shear Fun.""You guys are used to children screaming, right?"
The woman on the other line laughed and assured me, yes, her hair salon (that caters specifically to kids) had seen the worst of the worst.
I'd been avoiding it for weeks. Alex was in dire need of a haircut. So finally sucked it up last Saturday, dragged his father along insisting that we would need another pair of hands to help hold Alex down, and went to a kid's cut place in Monroe where I hoped the woman who cut his hair about two years back had either left or forgotten about him by now and, vice versa, Alex had forgotten the place himself.
We went in, saw the "barber's seats" that looked like those kid-rides you stick 50 cents in and they wiggle, rock, whatever for 2 minutes. Kids normally love them. Alex got this panicked look on his face. Oops.
"How do you want it?" the woman asked.
"Short. Fast."
10 minutes of buzzing, snipping punctuated protests and the picture here was the result. I swear it is a huge improvement compared to what it looked like when I tried to cut it myself a few days earlier. The alternative was a buzz cut which was vetoed by grandparents on both sides of our family.
During the cut, the owner was telling me that they do get a lot of autistic children. And in fact, there is an assisted living community not far away and they do the hair for many of the people from there.
And Alex emerged none the worse for wear. That evening, after his bath, he saw himself in the mirror as I got his pajamas on. He tried smoothing down what was left of his locks (sticking up all over the place) and started laughing hysterically at his reflection. I guess he likes it!
