Baby's First Hair Cut

Vernon (my husband) has been bugging me for weeks to cut Logan's (I was thinking of creating some pseudo name for my little guy, but after it took me an hour to find a name for this blog, I decided to call him by the name we painstakingly picked 13 months ago) hair. I love his beautiful curly locks, but Vernon keeps calling him a hippie. Now, I have been known to be called this myself, so I see nothing wrong with my baby being a little earthy. We are liberal, peace loving, keep the earth clean kind of people. However, we are not nurse till your five, never cut your boy's hair kind of people. So... the day had to come when I said goodbye to these beautiful curls.








I don't know what I was thinking. Vernon said he would cut his hair. I was fine with this because I wanted to take the photos. Silly, really silly for two reasons. The first being the obvious. Vernon is a professional photographer! Oh, but I am trying to improve my skills, so let me, let me!
The second reason: Vernon cannot cut hair. I know this from experience, personal experience! Vernon once cut his own hair with clippers and that did not end well, but when we decided one Valentine's Day that he would cut my hair, oh my.
We had just come home from traveling and my hair was long and kinda dead. I wanted it cut. I had cut my hair a number of times, but only simple trims. Vernon thought it was a great idea and after a bottle of wine I did too. So, he grabbed my pony tale and cut. Just like that, no measuring, no framing my face, just went for it. I was stunned. I freaked out a little (but only in the way you can freak out when you have been with someone a few short months), grabbed the scissors and tried to fix my poor head. I was worse than Vernon. I didn't know how to fix anything, so I just kept cutting. Vernon started to see the panic on my face and took the scissors back. He actually was able to fix the damage I had created, but my hair that was moments before down to my butt was now less than an inch long. I wore little barrettes in my hair for months. Somehow, I forgot about this and let Vernon cut.







I started to panic when I saw the back of my poor boy's head. I was already near tears at the thought of cutting his hair, but then when I saw this...
I stopped Vernon, remembered he was the photographer, I was the one that planned and thought before cutting, and tried to salvage Logan's head.





I didn't realize that cutting a one year old's hair is impossible! He squirms and grabs. He cries and wiggles. He does not tilt his head this way or that. He does not sit still. No, I had no luck. Vernon's grab and cut actually proved to be more successful. By the end, Logan was not a happy kiddo.







We gave him a little prize to ease the hurt...





A brush, I know. Kids are so easy! And after...





some reading and cuddling (and despite his horrible cut)...





Logan got his smile back.