Spin the Wheel! Today's Tantrum is....

You know what I don't miss about having preschoolers?  Tantrums.  I'm so thankful that my boys have grown up and can carry on a rational conversation without all the hysterics and blubbering.  Oh wait, just kidding!  Apparently we have not yet reached that point where tantrums are a thing of the past.  As with preschoolers, the older child can surprise you with a tantrum that appears out of thin air.  You never know what's going to spark the crying and whining, so it's like a bad soap opera where one character suddenly goes psycho and you're left wondering if they're really the evil twin come to ruin everything.  (Cue suspenseful music: duh duh duuuuuuhhhh!)

This week's surprise tantrum topic was "the haircut".  I am not a stranger to this particular tantrum as both my boys have tried different variations when I've suggested a simple trim.  What is so horrible about a damn haircut I ask you?  Granted, I had episodes in college where I came home from salons crying and carrying on, but I paid lots of money to those hacks who clearly did not understand what the "Rachel cut" entailed (ie, it was not supposed to resemble a mullet).  Now, I'm a mom of boys and I just figure, "Eh, it's hair and it'll grow back eventually.  I can always throw on a hat."

When my boys were very young I would trim their hair while they napped on the couch.  Cause that's not creepy to wake up to your mother hovering over you with a sharp set of scissors, right?  One time Zack woke up when I was trying to coax him to turn his head to the other side... but then he wouldn't go back to sleep.  He walked around for a day looking like Harvey Dent (aka Two-Face) with short-cropped hair on one side and curly locks on the other.  I had to wait for the next day's nap to even things out.

As my boys got older we would plop them in a chair with a lollipop to try to make it seem like a fun little game.  They would have none of it.  After a while they were covered in little hairs, tears, and red candy slobber running down their little chins, while the DumDum started to resemble a fuzzy Tribble instead of a lollipop. I caved and took them to the expensive kids' hair places where you pay a lot of money for them to sit in their own little jeep and watch Thomas videos, but it was no different.  Except that I was out twenty bucks and I was resentful because I could've done a better job.

My older son likes to go to a sport-themed place because he wants the "MVP" where you get a shampoo, cut, and style, not to mention a hot towel (for a prepubescent face), and a neck massage.  And it's still a crappy job.  Back to cheap-ass mom's salon for you!  Why does neither kid agree to a quick, easy military buzz cut which takes the least amount of time?

When Logan was finished with his traumatic haircut, I told Zack that he needed a cut as well.  He looked nervous after all the crying and carrying on his brother had done, and noticing that I was not in the best of moods he quietly scampered away saying something about just wanting his hair "thinned out" and that I could take him to my stylist later.  Ha!  Yeah, right.  He's just putting off the inevitable.

Maybe I'll have my evil twin take over the haircuts.