Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow.

So Mrs. Write took the kids for haircuts while I was at work last Saturday.  Seeing as they are ages 12 and 9-soon-to-be-10, respectively, this shouldn't be a big deal.  But it was, to them and to me, because Dad didn't cut their hair this time...

For the past few years, I've clipped the boys' locks at home using a trimmer.  Granted, it left them looking like Marines, which is funny considering my hair hangs halfway down my back.  It worked for us, though.  Or so I thought.  Apparently, there has been a Haircut Mutiny going on behind my back.

Oddly enough, it wasn't Felix, my oldest, who complained.  It was Oscar, my nine-year-old, who was quietly asking his Mom if he could go to "the haircut place" next time.  This struck me as weird because Oscar is usually unconcerned about his appearance.  This is the kid who went to Occupational Therapy sans socks a couple weeks ago; you know, the place where he has to TAKE HIS SHOES OFF to work out on the mat.  This is the boy who would go shirtless everywhere if he could.  The boy who walks around with his buttcrack popping out of the top of his pants constantly.

Suddenly, he's concerned about his appearance.  Well, his hair, anyway.  He's still sockless, shirtless and pro-buttcrack most of the time.  But, this seemed important to him.  Felix, ever the follower type, wanted to go along with his little brother.  So, I acquiesced.  Mrs. Write pointed out that it would be less work for me, that I wouldn't have to put up with a squirming Oscar or sweep up the mound of hair left over.

Then why am I so disappointed?  Why do I miss what was basically an unpleasant chore?  Do I have to turn in my Man Card for wanting to trim my kids' hair so bad I ache a little watching them go to someone else?

Oh well.  I have to admit, the stylist did a good job.  Of course, I'll bet she didn't give them a super hug afterwards.  Loser.